


May

by TeekiJane



Series: A Year Apart [10]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 39,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeekiJane/pseuds/TeekiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At long last, Byron finds himself back home...in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goodbye Stranger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really never know what coming home means until you really leave.

To: Byronp86  
From: A_grant_nc  
Byron,  
As I’m writing this, you have just left Duke—you probably haven’t even left town yet—but I have found that some things are easier to say when you don’t have to look someone in the face.  
I know I’ve been difficult the last couple weeks, and I hope you didn’t take that personally. I know you have to follow your dreams, wherever they may take you, but that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.  
Feel free to come by and visit anytime. Bring Jeff with; I’d love to meet him! I’ll show all y’all a good time.  
Your friend always,  
Alizah

Packing up to leave Duke had to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. 

The physical act was not that bad. I had more stuff than I had when I moved down here in August, but I’d figured out ways of making packing easier, like wrapping breakables in my clothes and then putting all of the clothing that wasn’t used as bubble wrap in trash bags. The actual problem was one of the mental and emotional baggage I was packing at the same time. 

Alizah came in as I was starting and parked herself on Julio’s futon, just watching me work. She’d offered to help but hadn’t been surprised when I’d turned her down. I had to control exactly where everything went or I’d get confused, I’d told her. But in reality, I had to control exactly where everything went because then I’d have control over _something_. I’d managed to prevent the girls and Paul from seeing me as a crybaby this year, and I didn’t want to start now. 

Alizah and Jossie’s room had slowly been emptied of stuff over the last week. One day Jossie’s dad and two little brothers showed up and loaded up the couch and larger pieces of furniture for storage until next year. The two of them were going to room together again next year, but in a different dorm. Then Alizah’s mom had picked up the vast majority of her clothing and everything except the sheets on her bed and her school supplies. The room was pretty much a wasteland, which was why, I thought, she was hanging out in my room. Both Julio and I were getting picked up by our mothers after exams were over, so while we’d been packing in between our studies and tests, our room still looked like someone lived there. 

But I also assumed Alizah wanted to lay a guilt trip on me. I’d learned my lesson after the whole Jossie-coming-out thing and had made the announcement to both Alizah and Jossie that I wasn’t coming back in the fall as soon as I’d officially enrolled at Berkeley. Two weeks later, I’d told Paul after he’d asked me to room with him for sophomore year. He’d been a little surprised, but he’d understood. 

I’m not sure you could say the same thing about the girls. Ever since study week, Jossie had been avoiding me. We were in the same psychology class, although at different times, and we’d been studying together all semester…until finals. Meanwhile, Alizah had been throwing subtle, passive-aggressive barbs my way over the last couple days. That wasn’t her normal style, but instinct told me she was being nasty so that she, too, could avoid being a crybaby. I figured I’d find out one way or another, soon enough. 

Something was different today though. Instead of looking hard for something to mock, she seemed more distant, like taking digs at me was no longer the top of her priority list. I was cleaning out a shared storage space and found a petrified sandwich. Normally such a discovery would have caused a scene, even for the mild-mannered, mellow Alizah. Instead, she just wrinkled her nose, took the baggie from me and tossed it into the trash can. That single moment solidified my idea that something else was on her mind. 

I put down the pile of notes from one of my engineering classes that I was preparing to dump in the recycling and sat down beside her on the futon. “What’s eating you?” I asked her kindly. 

Alizah smiled with her mouth only. “Nothing,” she insisted. 

“Nothing?” I repeated with a shake of my head. “Bullshit. You’ve been cutting me down all week, and now you can’t even find a single insult for something that _deserves_ to be laughed at. C’mon, Lize. What’s going on?” 

She laughed nervously. “Oh, alright.” She folded her feet up underneath her ass, with that nervous, shifty quality people get when they’re evading the truth. “I was out with a couple of friends last night. And I ended up going home with a guy.” 

I raised my eyebrows. Alizah had dated one of her journalism major friends for almost six months, but they’d broken up a few weeks ago. Since then she and Jossie had been joking about being hard up and needing to find men to solve the problem. This was funny (in a sad way) because Jossie, for all her commentary on cute guys and studs, had admitted to me she’d never had a real boyfriend. Any guy she was ever interested in friend-zoned her or considered her a stalker…or turned out to be gay. “A guy?” I repeated. Alizah threw a glance up to the sky and I realized that wasn’t the real question. “What guy?” 

I’d hit the nail on the head. She made a face, still not looking at me. “A-li-zah!” I pulled out my stern voice. “Are you going to tell me or do I have to worm it out of Jossie later?” I knew Jossie would know, though the real question was whether she was mad enough at me to prevent me from hearing the gossip. 

Alizah still didn’t make eye contact, but she did snicker. “Okay, okay,” she acquiesced. “If you weren’t going to be abandoning us, I’d leave you dangling until I see whether this is going to turn out to be more than a fling.” 

I got up to give her some space and continued my organizing. I waited for a moment for her to furnish the name, but instead Alizah popped out of her seat and started jamming the stuff in my ‘garbage’ pile into a trash bag. This had to be pretty good if she was that keen to avoid talking about it. “If you’re not going to tell me, I guess we have to play twenty questions. Is it a human? Is he male? Is he alive? Is he bigger than a bread box?” 

She finally stopped digging through my trash and looked at me. “It was Paul,” she admitted. 

“Paul?” I repeated. I was starting to feel like a parrot. “Paul Turner? Circle K Paul? The guy you’ve been chasing on and off all school year?” She nodded, plopping her butt down on the floor. It was extremely humid that afternoon and her hair was frizzy and escaping her ponytail. She wiped some out of her eyes. “Shouldn’t this be a good thing?” I asked her. 

“You don’t get it,” Alizah said. “I slept with him on the first date. I mean, you can’t even call it a date. We just ran into each other at La Bamba’s and he and his friends joined me and my friends and we were all passing around a bottle in a paper bag. And one thing led to another…” She picked a piece of paper with complicated chemistry notes on it and pretended to inspect it closely, then tossed it in the recycle pile. “I’d always told myself I’d never be one of those easy girls that gives everything up right at the start. I have more self-respect than that. Now I’m afraid he’ll think I’m a slut and won’t be interested in more than just that one night.” 

I nodded. I understood her problem, not from personal experience, but just from general knowledge of society. “If you’re a slut,” I said slowly, “then so is he. If he’s going to judge you by what happened last night, then he’s not the person you—or I—thought he was.” 

“Okay,” Alizah acknowledged, “I see your point. But what kind of way is this to start a relationship? We got things all backwards. What do we do for an encore? Make out in the backseat of a car? And after that, we can have an awkward first date.” 

I laughed, partly because what she was suggesting was so absurd and partly because I didn’t expect her of all people to be so rigid in how her love life was supposed to go. “I don’t think I know anyone whose relationship started off the old-fashioned fairy-tale way. Look at me and Jeff. We were best friends when we were, like, nine. We used to strip down to our undies and wrestle on the bed, we teased each other mercilessly and I’m pretty sure we got thrown into the bathtub together at least once. Not exactly spotting each other across the dance floor, Romeo-and-Juliet style.” 

I found a photo of Alizah, Jossie and me in costume at a Circle K meeting in October and put that in the ‘keep’ pile. “And my brother Jordan and best friend Haley? She gave him a black eye one day and was making out with him two days later. And when my parents met, my dad was engaged to someone else, but they’ve been married for almost twenty-five years now.” 

I stood up because my knee was creaking and I needed to find a different way to sit, but before I could shake it off and get back on the floor, Alizah gave me a firm hug. I hugged her back and willed myself not to cry, only to find she was already crying on my shoulder. “I’m going to miss you,” she said. “No one in my life talks sense the way y’all do. You found the right career field for you, you know that?” 

“I’ll stay in touch,” I insisted. “You guys have my MyFriends name. And I’ll have a good reason to update the page more than once every other month now.” 

“Good, good. And someday when I’m writing for something other than just the school paper, you’ll have to subscribe to it and keep every byline I ever have.” She wiped her eyes. 

“Of course! And you do need to keep me updated on what happens between you and Paul. I don’t know what will come of…this…but I do know that if it’s meant to happen, it will happen. Maybe not right now, maybe not next fall. But someday.” 

She nodded, still moist-eyed, and sat back down on the futon. I had almost finished sorting the pile-of-random-papers that Julio and I had amassed by being lazy during the school year, so I plopped everything that wasn’t mine back into the ‘hollow’ between our dressers. Alizah went back to watching me work for a little while before she continued. “Speaking of somedays,” she said, forcing me to replay our conversation in my head and figure out when, exactly, we’d been speaking of somedays. “Someday, when you and Jeff get married, I expect an invitation. And not just a single invite either, an ‘and guest.’ That way, I can either bring a guy or Jossie if I’m desperate.” 

I chuckled, first at the image of me and Jeff ever getting married and secondly at the image of Alizah and Jossie showing up at said imaginary wedding, wearing ridiculous gowns and outrageous hats. “You got it.” 

I thought that was the end of the conversation, but she started smirking and then released one loud laugh. “When you and Jeff wrestle nowadays, do you still strip down to your undies?” 

I leveled an expressionless look at her. Alizah was shaking with held-in laughter. “Of course not. These days, we take our undies off, too.” 

*** 

Finally, exams were over. I was a bundle of contradictions: on one hand I was excited to head back home, see my brothers and Hay and eventually, Jeff. But on the other hand, it might be the last time I would ever see these friends. 

Alizah and Paul were still kinda awkward with each other, but I’d been present the night before—at my ‘going away dinner’, attended by about a dozen people—when he’d asked her to go to the movies with him. Who knew what would become of the two of them, or if I’d even be told about it? 

There was one person who didn’t come to my ‘last supper,’ as Paul had called it, that I really needed to hash a few things out with. Alizah had made a pathetic excuse (lie) about her dad taking her out to dinner, but I knew Jossie was just avoiding me. That was _my_ modus operandi—avoiding something painful—and I wasn’t going to let her get away with it any more than my friends let me get away with it. My mom had given me an expected time of arrival, and I’d started hauling all my stuff to the curb about two hours early in anticipation. (I’d figured out a long time ago exactly where Jordan had gotten his proclivity for driving fifteen miles over the speed limit.) Paul arrived to help and, as soon she saw him, Alizah came out to join us. When everything made it outside, I looked at the two of them. Alizah was straightening a stack of copier paper boxes and she didn’t look up as she spoke. “Go. She’s up in our room, with the door shut but unlocked.” 

I walked away, marveling at the fact that she could read my mind as well as Haley could. I trudged back up those four flights of stairs for what was probably the last time while the other two watched my worldly possessions. Like Alizah said, the door to her and Jossie’s room was shut tight but unlocked. I felt a little guilty as I opened the door, but I knew this was my last possible chance to say what needed to be said, in person. 

Jossie was hunched over a book, curled up in her desk chair. She’s not normally someone who reads for pleasure—there’s not enough movement involved for her—so I knew she was really stretching to find excuses not to come downstairs and say goodbye. I couldn’t see the book well, but it was small and looked like a Harlequin romance novel. 

She didn’t move when I came in the door, but I wasn’t sure if she didn’t hear me come in or if she assumed I was Alizah. I watched her for a moment, silent and still and not at all like her usual self, and then I shifted my frame so I was blocking the doorway. I didn’t put it past her to try to run when she realized I was there. “Just reading the dirty bits, aren’t you?” I asked. 

I know I had to have startled her, but she showed no outward sign of it. “Of course,” she responded quietly. Her back was still to me and she closed the book without further comment or any other movement. “Did you need something, Byron?” 

“Of course,” I echoed. “I need to say goodbye.” 

Jossie finally turned her sad brown eyes up at me. She reminded me of those awful paintings of poor children with bug-eyes too large for their heads at that moment. “I’m not helping you with that one,” she said. “I flat-out refuse to say goodbye to you.” 

I knelt down beside her chair. “Well, let’s talk about something else, then.” 

“Nope.” She twisted around so she wasn’t looking at me again. 

I watched Jossie pouting for a moment and then sighed. “You’re behaving like a five-year-old,” I finally told her. “I am leaving no matter what, whether you talk to me or not. You might as well get your words out now, because you might regret it later if you don’t.” 

She curled up in a ball, and I realized just how much Jossie and I had in common. How often had I physically shored myself up like that to try to protect my heart? I wanted to give her a hug, but her position in the chair made it nearly impossible. “I don’t have many friends,” she finally answered through a gap between her chest and her legs. “And when I make them, I like to hang on to them.” 

“So do I,” I insisted. I sat on the floor, which was surprisingly cold given how warm it was outside. “If I had my way, all of my friends and family would be in one place so I’d never have to be without any of them.” Jossie shifted and her head reappeared. “It’s sad that life doesn’t work that way, but just because we can’t be in the same spot doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.” 

“I can’t believe I’ll never see you again,” she mumbled unhappily. 

“Who says you’ll never see me again? I’ve already promised Alizah a seat at my wedding if I ever marry Jeff, and the same goes for you. You ever come out to San Francisco and you have a place to stay.” 

Jossie finally sat up straight, and as was her style, did a 180-degree mood change. Well, maybe this was more of a 120-degree mood change. She didn’t turn joyful and exuberant, but she did look like a smile was imminent. “My dad is taking my brothers to Cape Cod this summer. You live anywhere near there?” 

I thought about that. It really depended upon scale. People in Connecticut would definitely say no, but in the great scheme of things? “For your purposes, yeah, sorta.” 

“Well, maybe you could come up and see me. Or I could stop by for a visit.” 

“I don’t see why not. I mean, I’d have to ask my parents and check with work, but it could probably work out.” I slid onto the side of the chair next to her. “You know something? I think you were right earlier. We shouldn’t say goodbye, because this isn’t really goodbye. It’s more like…” 

Jossie perked up a little more. “ _Auf wiedersehen_ ,” she prompted. 

She had me. I’d taken French in high school. “What?” 

“It’s German for goodbye. But if you translate it literally, it’s closer to… ‘until I see you again.” 

“Oh.” I put one arm around her shoulder. “Like _au revoir_ ,” I added thoughtfully. 

“Exactly!” Jossie wrapped her arm around my neck, more of a choke hold than a friendly gesture, but I knew the sentiment was the same. 

The phone rang just then and Joss let go of my neck to snatch it up. “You’ve reached the home of Alizah Grant and Jocelyn Prentiss,” she announced grandly. I rolled my eyes; that was Jossie’s favorite phone greeting, much too formal for such a tiny dorm room. “Mmm,” she said after a moment. “I’ll tell him.” She set the phone back down. “That was Alizah. Your mom is waiting for you.” 

I stood up reluctantly. “I guess this is it for now,” I said. “ _Auf wiedersehen_ , Jossie.” 

She stood on the chair and pulled me into a hug as she leaned over me. “ _Au revoir_ , Byron.” 

I trudged down the stairs one last time, thinking about what Jossie and I had said about this not being forever. I knew I’d hear from her on instant messenger a lot, because she lived online. Hell, there had been a few times when she’d IMed me while she was right across the hall because she just didn’t feel like getting off her butt. But I knew things would never be the same again, no matter what I told Joss. Sometimes, we have to tell little white lies to spare others’ feelings—or our own. 

*** 

Mom was indeed waiting for me when I got down the stairs, and she was in a capital-M Mood. My parents had volunteered to send plane tickets to each of us college students and even pay for a storage facility for the summer if necessary, if it meant not having to drive to pick us up. Adam was moving into the frat house and Jordan was keeping the same room, so they’d both taken Mom and Dad up on the offer. Leaving my stuff behind wasn’t really an option for me, so I’d politely declined. I had a feeling a large chunk of Mom’s demeanor could be attributed to the fact that she’d had to drive all day long to get to North Carolina, only to turn back around and drive home. 

Whatever the source, she was being brusque and formal with Paul and Alizah when I met the SUV on the curb, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her behave like that with any of my friends before. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us,” she barked at me when she backed away from the rear door. “I’ve got most of your stuff loaded, so if you’re going to say goodbye to your friends, do it now so we can ship out as soon as you’re done.” 

I raised my eyebrows, but seeing she was serious, I hopped to it. My friends had moved away from the car and Mom’s gruff tone. Paul and I shook hands, a move that might have looked funny if anyone else did it but felt totally natural to the two of us. “Buds forever,” Paul teased. He remembered my obsession with his assertion that we were buds when we had first arrived at school. I pretended to punch him in the shoulder and he pretended to sock me in the face and suddenly, we looked like every other pair of nineteen-year-old boys out there. 

Alizah pulled me into another big hug, only this time, instead of crying, she spoke directly into my ear. “I didn’t know,” she said quietly and seriously. “I didn’t know she didn’t know.” 

The implications of that sunk in. Alizah must have mentioned to my mother that I wasn’t coming back to Duke, a fact I hadn’t told her myself. I’d wanted to be a man and get my ducks in a row before I went to my parents. And while I had organized most of the details, there was still one drake I was chasing: how I was going to get my things from Connecticut to California without amassing a huge debt. (I was coming to the conclusion that it just might not be possible.) I had planned to sit both my parents down sometime in the next couple days and bring them up-to-date, but it seemed that option was no longer viable. 

By the time Alizah let me go, Mom was already in the passenger’s seat of the SUV and the motor was idling. I gave my friends one last wave, the pang of having to leave them behind dulled by the fear of what was coming next. As I drove away, I saw Paul put his arm around Alizah, and I hoped things would be okay for the two of them. 

Mom pretended to be asleep the entire first hour of the trip, but I knew she was faking. She has this light, quiet snore she does when she sleeps sitting up that was missing from the closed-eyed fake slumber she presented in the car. I let her get away with it for a while, but I started to get bored and therefore, sleepy myself, so I started poking at her. “What’s bothering you, Mom?” I asked. 

She opened her eyes instantly, without a hint of being startled, which told me I’d been correct about her. Yet she didn’t sound any less grumpy than she had earlier. “Your driving,” she answered harshly. “You know you’re supposed to drive with the flow of traffic, right? If everyone else is going ten miles over the speed limit, you should be, too.” 

That set my teeth on edge. I’d heard that from my brothers, and Dad, and Hay, and just about anyone else who’s ever sat in the passenger’s seat while I was driving on the highway. Normally I get defensive, with comments about traffic laws and safety and my own sense of security leading me to stick with the speed limit. Today I just leaned a little harder on the accelerator until I was at the same pace as the car ahead of me, imagining trying to make my mom pay for the speeding ticket if I got pulled over. “Okay, now let’s talk about the elephant in the…car. I know you know I’m not going back to Duke in the fall.” 

Mom sighed and closed her eyes again, rubbing her temples. “Let’s get a few things straight,” she began. “If you’re thinking there won’t be consequences for this, you’ve got another thing coming. You’ll need to find a full time job, or at least two part time jobs, and you’ll be paying rent. You’ll have to sleep in Adam and Jordan’s room, because I’m not going to make Nick share a room just because you’ve decided to throw your life away.” 

I was totally lost. I didn’t answer right away because I was replaying the whole conversation in my head. “What are you talking about?” 

“You said you’re not going back to Duke,” Mom repeated. “What I’m telling you is that you’re not going to be sitting around the house, playing video games or reading books instead.” 

I laughed, half out of surprise and half out of nerves, and that made Mom’s mood even worse. “You’re right,” I said after a moment. “I definitely won’t be sitting around the house. I’m not dropping out of school, Mom; I’m transferring.” 

The fight and the tension and the worry all went out of her almost instantly. “Transferring?” 

“Yeah. I’ll be a sophomore at the University of California Berkeley in the fall. Duke just wasn’t the right school for me.” 

“Oh, thank God,” Mom said, sighing mightily. “You were the last one of your siblings I expected that out of, so I was just worried about you.” She turned away for a moment before she continued talking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so…nasty…with you. I just honestly believe that you and your brothers and sisters have bright futures. You’re all so talented in your own separate ways, and I hate the thought of any of you struggling. So when I thought that another one of you was dropping out of school—” 

I cut her off. “ _Another_ one?” If I wasn’t the first one to drop a bombshell on her, then it made her frustration all the more understandable. 

Mom put her head in her hands. “Your father got an email from your older sister last week. We haven’t heard from her since Christmas, you know—not a single call or visit. This was a short note, and she didn’t respond to her father when he requested more details. It just said, ‘Taking a year off school. Will be in touch.’ Mallory may think she’s just taking a year off, but I know how that works. Once you get out of the habit of school, it can be hard to get back into it.” 

“Well, that’s not something you have to worry about with me. I’m still enrolled in school, and I’ve got plans for grad school after I finish my BS. I’m really excited about it, in fact.” 

Mom finally smiled. She’s always looked younger than she really is, because she says having so many kids, instead of giving her gray hair, made her stay youthful. But I had a feeling that we kids were giving her more gray hairs and wrinkles now that we were adults. “Your friends were quite nice. Pleasant, cheerful and respectful. Not many kids your age who would have helped me load up the van in your absence.” I nodded, not taking my eyes off the road. “Shame things didn’t work out for you.” 

“I know,” I acknowledged. “I really tried to make it work, but I hated my major and my classes.” 

Mom rubbed her temple with her thumb. “Where did you say you were going next year again?” 

I swallowed hard; I’d had the feeling that she’d glossed over that detail in her relief over the rest of the message. “UC Berkeley,” I repeated nervously. 

“California?” For a second, I thought Mom was going to cry. “Oh, Byron.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I saw a gray hair sprout on her head. 

*** 

We arrived home rather late that night. As we were driving north on Interstate 95, Mom had told me that Dad wanted the next day—Saturday—to be a family day with no outside distractions. He knew we’d be scattering after that to be with the families we chose, our friends and significant others, so he was hoping for just one day in which we all ate as a family and spent time together. 

Nick was, like all my other siblings, fast asleep when I got home. Adam and Jordan had each come in earlier in the week, and like me, they started work on Monday. As I tiptoed past my snoring brother and stripped down into sleep apparel, I began laying out what I needed to do that weekend: I had to sit my father down and talk to him before he heard what was going on from anyone else like Mom had. I wanted to reconnect with my siblings a little (which would be a good way to spend ‘family day’). But above all, I wanted to catch Hay and spend some one-on-one time with her. Not only did I miss her ‘advice’ and good-natured ribbing, I thought that the best way to deal with leaving friends behind was to reunite with other friends. 

The first part of this went much easier than I expected. After a restless night of tossing and turning, I woke up feeling as if I hadn’t slept at all. It was earlier than I usually got up and Nick was still sleeping. Rather than going straight to speak with Dad like I’d planned, I took a jog. Two miles and a shower later, I felt so much better that I knew the time had come. With Mom by my side, I went up to my parents’ bedroom and explained the whole story: how I’d been unhappy with my major, how I’d enrolled at Berkeley, worked out financial aid, and even found off-campus housing so that I’d eventually be able to claim residency. Dad looked from my calm, rational list to Mom’s worried expression and back again. When I was finished, Dad stood up. “Sounds like you’ve thought just about everything out,” he said thoughtfully. “I trust your judgment, Byron. If you think this is the right move for you, I support you.” 

Mom made a displeased noise and Dad turned to her. “Oh, Dee, come on,” he said, calmly and soothingly. “What’s bothering you about this? Your son’s grown up into a man right in front of you, and a man has to follow his heart. If I hadn’t followed my heart back in the day, none of us would be here today.” 

The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before she reached out and touched him on the arm. They didn’t get mushy like this too often, but they reminded me so much of someone else that I’d seen much more recently…but couldn’t place. Finally Mom turned back to me. Although she addressed Dad when she spoke, I knew she was actually talking to me. “Yes, but why does his heart have to take him all the way across the country?” she asked. “And if he’s hoping for residency, he’ll have to really _live_ in California. His mail will go there, he’ll have a California driver’s license, and we’ll only get to see him now and then.” 

I didn’t really answer any of that, but I did smile. “Have you ever been to San Francisco, Mom?” I asked her. “It’s beautiful. You’ll have to come visit me.” 

Dad put one hand on each of our shoulders. “Not to mention the fact that life might be easier for Byron out there. I understand there’s an active gay community in San Francisco, isn’t there?” 

He and I looked at each other for a moment. “That was a small factor in my decision, yeah,” I admitted. I had a feeling getting out of the Bible Belt would help my nerves a little. I’d seen a couple of my classmates get called fags and homos and be spit at on the street in town, and I’d had a hard enough time coming out to begin with. 

“Honestly, this sounds like a great move for Byron, doesn’t it, Dee? Think of all the planning that went into this. And did you ever see him as an engineer, anyway?” 

Mom looked from Dad to me and then she finally smiled, although she was sniffling a little. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll accept this, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

Dad laughed. “You don’t have to like it,” he insisted. “It’s not your life; it’s Byron’s. Besides, you know that someday, all eight of our kids are going to make moves like this. They’ll drop out of school, or move across country, or get married and move out on their own.” Mom laughed herself, but it was one of those hiccuppy, unhappy laughs. “You can’t stop it.” 

Mom wrapped her arms around me. I tried to hug her back, but she’d pinned my arms to my side. “My baby,” she mumbled, more to herself than to me. “There’s no turning back now, is there?” 

No. No, there wasn’t. 

*** 

I’d made it this far in the morning without running into any of my siblings, but when my parents and I left their bedroom, I heard shouts and laughter coming from the rec room. Mom was going to whip up something for dessert that night and Dad was going to water the garden, and then they wanted the nine of us to all find some kind of board game or activity to do together, so I decided now was as good a time as any to join the rest of the Pike herd. 

I stood halfway up the stairs, taking them all in. Adam and Jordan were in the middle of the floor, wrestling as if they were a pair of eight-year-olds. Nick stood on the coffee table with a toy microphone in hand, officiating like a crazy, folksy announcer. “And it looks as if Adam has Jordan down, but then Jordan bends one of Adam’s fingers back. Ouch, that hadda hurt!” 

Margo and Claire were on the couch, leaning forward and egging our brothers on. From their shouts, it appeared as if they had taken bets on who would come out on top. “C’mon, Adam,” Margo shrieked as Jordan got control of the situation and flipped him onto his back. 

None of them had changed much over the past four months. Adam’s hair was a little longer and a little messier than last time I’d seen him, and he had probably about a week’s worth of scruffy beard growth. Jordan still had the exact same buzz cut he’d had in January, as if time had frozen his hair in place. On the other hand, he’d had a freak growth spurt, and as the two of them tussled on the floor, he was clearly about three inches taller than Adam. Claire, too, had the same hairstyle she’d been displaying over the winter, although she’d spray-dyed a pink streak into the front. Margo had cut bangs in her hair that matched Claire’s, although she’d pulled the rest of her hair back into a long, slick ponytail. She had highlights in her hair, although obviously those were from a box of home hair dye and not a spray can. And other than being more social and more animated than I was used to seeing him, Nick looked exactly the same as I remembered him. He was even wearing the same jeans he had been the day I’d left for North Carolina in January. 

I watched the action for a while, quickly realizing that what I was seeing was a stalemate: despite all Jordan’s workouts and practice drills this year and the extra couple inches, he and Adam were an even match. They just kept flipping each other over. “I call dibs on the winner,” I called, still on the stairs. 

Everyone turned around, polite greetings dying on their lips. It wasn’t until I had five faces all staring at me that I remembered that _I_ didn’t look the same. I’d made the changes gradually over time: some new clothes here, a major haircut there, so I was able to get used to them. But this was the first time everyone else had seen the new Byron. 

At first, it was as if they couldn’t decide where to start the comments. Adam and Jordan disentangled themselves and stood up. Margo shifted in her seat so she could see me better, and Nick stopped standing on the table and sat down on it. Claire, who always had a sarcastic comment for everything, froze with her mouth open. Old Byron would have squirmed and been uncomfortable with everyone looking at him. And okay, that was new Byron’s instinct, too. Instead I just took one hand and waved it in everyone’s direction, the other hand clinging to the rail as if I were at risk of falling down the rest of the stairs. “Hey, everyone,” I called, a little awkwardly. 

It wasn’t until a voice emanated calmly from the armchair in the corner that I realized I was missing a sibling. “Hey, Byron,” Vanessa replied nonchalantly. “When’d you get a haircut?” 

That opened the flood gates. Margo got up off the couch and dragged me back between her and Claire. For her part, my youngest sister reached at my face and snatched off my three-week-old glasses. Adam and Jordan joined Nick on the coffee table and the three of them started making jokes about my ‘snazzy duds.’ 

Only Vanessa didn’t join in; she remained curled up in the arm chair, a heavy book in her lap. She wore no makeup and her feet were bare. She’d grown her hair out since the last time I’d seen her, which was pretty normal. Mom used to say she took most of the family for haircuts every other month, while she took Vanessa and me for haircuts about once a year. Other than making the one comment, she’d barely looked up from her book, and she seemed unnecessarily subdued. Hay had told me that Vanessa hadn’t gotten into her first—and basically, only—choice school, so she was forced to live at home, at least for the semester, and hope she got in somewhere for the spring. 

I was barely hearing what everyone was saying. Margo had put her hand in my hair and was ruffling it around, while Claire was wearing my glasses. “Give me those back,” I insisted. “I need them to see.” 

“No,” Claire said with an over-emphasized eye roll, “I thought you needed them for your supersonic hearing.” Still, she handed them over without further comment and I placed them back on my face. They were small frames, plastic tortoiseshell and rectangular. When the optometrist told me I needed a prescription, I’d called my parents, who said they’d pay for either a pair of glasses or a year’s worth of contacts, whatever I preferred. I decided the glasses were easier. “You’re the living proof of what Mal predicted when I once called her Four Eyes.” 

“And what was that?” Margo asked. 

“She said, ‘Someday, every single one of us Pikes is going to need glasses.’” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment, which is rare in a house with that many teenagers. Finally I wrenched myself out from between my sisters and addressed the group as a whole. “Mom and Dad should be done soon. Let’s go pick out what we want to do before we get stuck in another endless round of Charades.” 

Adam led the charge into the junk room, where there was a whole bookshelf full of board games. After a few seconds, just Vanessa and I were left in the room. I sat down on the arm of her chair, near her left shoulder. “Don’t you care what game we play?” I asked her. 

She shook her head. She’d pulled her hair back with a couple of large barrettes, but other than that it was loose. For the past couple years she’d worn outfits rather than clothes, dressing up as part of a culture rather than herself. She’d done the Goth thing for a long time, then tried a couple types of other costumes. But by Christmas she wore more generic clothes: jeans and shirts with messages on them. Today she had on a long white t-shirt and a pair of jeans cut off raggedly at the knee. “Why worry about it?” she answered with a shrug. “It’s not important in the grand scheme of things.” 

I nodded, understanding her logic. It was a combination of things: first, like she said, would it matter 30 years from now if we played Monopoly or cards today? Second, there was probably a fight going on in there, and two more voices weren’t going to help. The two of us sat in that chair, me peering over her shoulder, trying to figure out what she was reading. Just as I’d figured, I heard shouts come from the other side of the wall. Vanessa looked at me over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. I smiled as if the two of us shared a secret, because we sort of did. 

*** 

It took fifteen minutes for our siblings to emerge from the junk room with the expanded edition of Clue, which the seven of us brought upstairs to our parents. We only played the game three times, though, because Nick won every single round. “How do you do that?” Jordan asked him curiously. 

Nick shrugged. “I guess I just have a superior mind,” he teased. 

“I think he cheats,” Claire grumbled. 

After that, Mom and Dad sent one person at a time to choose an activity. We played four more board games in the time between lunch and dinner, and then ate a big family meal together. By then, Mom and Dad were tired of ‘Family Day’ and the accompanying squabbling. They retreated to their bedroom after supper, leaving the rest of us to our own devices. 

Nick called a couple of male friends and got out for the evening. I was surprised by that, because I didn’t even know he had friends who weren’t girls wanting a date with him. Vanessa took her book to her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her, while my other two sisters disappeared upstairs. That left me alone with Adam and Jordan in front of the television, which aired a nature documentary. “What the fuck are we watching this for?” Jordan asked. He was lying upside down on the couch, with his feet up in the air and his head hanging off the bottom. It didn’t look comfortable, but Jordan didn’t seem bothered. He’d been behaving slightly silly all day, and when I’d asked him about it, he’d just said, “I’m happy, that’s all.” 

Adam dug around among the cushions for the remote control. “Because Mom and Dad won’t spring for the Playboy channel,” he answered. 

I rolled my eyes. “Like I’d want to watch the Playboy channel with you,” I said. I was sitting on the floor, between Jordan’s head and Adam’s feet. 

“You never know,” Adam retorted. “They could have Guy Hour or something, where it’s all gay porn.” 

Jordan sat back upright. His face was turning purple. “And I’m sure you’d _love_ watching Guy Hour, wouldn’t you Adam?” 

I stood up and turned the television off on the set, then sat down between my brothers. Adam turned his back to the arm of the couch and just sat there looking at Jordan and me for so long that we both started to fidget. “What?!?” Jordan finally exclaimed. I was used to everyone staring at me like that by now, so I wasn’t quite as agitated as Jordan was. 

Adam shook his head, looking slightly amused despite how serious he’d turned. “You know,” he said, “Looking at the two of you is like looking at my future. Whenever something happens to one of us, it happens to the others within six months.” That was a truth we’d discovered in our teen years, when we’d all taken turns being the first one to show some symptom of puberty or another. Jordan had been the first to get armpit hair, while my voice cracked first. Adam had been irritated to usually be the last to catch up, and I had the feeling he was feeling that way now too. “Here’s Stretch over here,” Adam continued, jerking his thumb at Jordan, “and that makes me want to be happy, until I look over there,” the thumb shifted to me, “and see…that.” 

I sighed. “What’s your problem with me now, Adam?” 

“Your vision,” he answered, as if that should be obvious. “The last thing I need when I’m trying to attract the ladies is a pair of glasses, but if you have them, then I’ll have them soon.” 

Jordan rubbed at his own eyes. “If I want to be honest,” he admitted, “I probably need them now.” 

“Great,” Adam muttered. “Just great. This isn’t going to help my mojo at all.” 

Jordan and I looked at each other and then he cracked up laughing. “Your mojo?” he repeated. 

Adam was annoyed. “You know,” he explained. “My charisma. My essence of manliness.” 

“Essence of manliness!” Jordan hooted. I elbowed him in the upper arm. Despite how silly Adam sounded, I knew he meant what he was saying. Adam felt the same way about attracting girls and playing macho as Jordan did about sports and I did about my school work. It was important to him because it was something that he could excel in and beat us. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is, Adam,” I said, shifting in my seat so that my legs were folded up underneath me. “If they tell you that your vision’s bad, just get contacts. No one has to even know.” 

He lightened up a bit. “I guess you’re right,” he replied. “I’ve just got an image to maintain. And glasses do not say ‘sexy stud.’” 

Jordan snorted. “No one has ever called you a sexy stud,” he accused. 

“No…but they’ve thought it. Lots and lots of times.” 

Jordan turned to me, his expression carefully neutral. I could tell that he wanted to burst out laughing again, but was thinking better of it…at least temporarily. “I think he’s trying to get us to ask him about his sexual conquests,” he said in a low voice, but purposely loud enough for Adam to hear. 

I returned the measured glance. “That’s what it sounds like to me, too.” 

Jordan shifted again. “Okay, Adam, I’ll humor you. How many girls did you sleep with this school year?” 

This was clearly a moment Adam had been waiting for for quite a while. He was nearly buzzing with anticipation. “Four.” 

I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Four? Really?” It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Adam had had sex with five girls. I just couldn’t believe he was so proud of that fact. 

Jordan shook his head. “Whatever, dude,” he intoned, the implication obvious. He either didn’t believe a word of it, or just wanted Adam to think that. 

Adam shifted up on the arm of the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Oh, doubt me all you want,” he teased Jordan, confidence oozing in the statement. “D’ya think you’ll ever get Haley’s pants off of her, Jordan?” 

Jordan turned red and pouty. I didn’t doubt one bit that he would wait for Hay for as long as it took for her to be ready, but obviously he was more than a little sensitive about it. “Jackass,” he muttered in Adam’s direction, knowing that anything more would start a fight. 

But Adam wouldn’t lay off. “I don’t know how you stand dating her,” he said loftily. “I know she’s got issues, but she’s such a tease.” 

Jordan shook off his sulk, even though he was still annoyed. He turned to me, but I just shrugged back at him. Finally, a light went on and he smiled. “Me and my hand are still on good terms,” he said cheerfully, holding his right hand out across me toward Adam, as if to shake hands. 

Adam snorted back a laugh, and it was obvious he’d leave Jordan alone now. I looked at that hand, stuck in my personal space, and I shuddered slightly, even though I knew he’d only been kidding. “Thank you _so_ much for that lovely image,” I spit out sarcastically. 

Jordan grinned; apparently if he couldn’t get to Adam with his teasing, I was just as good. “Well, what about you man? Anything you need to tell us?” 

I hadn’t told anyone what had happened between me and Jeff, and to my knowledge, neither had he. Neither one of us found sex to be something to joke about, like Adam did. It was a private thing just for the two of us. But I knew a time would come when I’d let something slip…or someone would find some other evidence. I didn’t want to tell my brothers now, but just thinking about it, I found myself turning redder than Jordan had been a minute ago. I looked down at the floor, and Adam leaned in toward me. “Oh! Oh!” he exclaimed. 

Jordan wasn’t getting it. “What?” he urged. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam gesture at me. “He’s making that face!” he shouted. “The one he makes right before he blushes and can’t speak! See!” He grabbed my face and turned it so I was looking at Jordan. “Look at him!” Adam continued as I shoved him off. 

Jordan inspected my blush for a moment before the meaning of it hit him. “Oh, my God,” he said, looking upward to the pencil stuck into the ceiling for a moment before he turned back to Adam. “You’re right! Byron!” He wrapped one arm around my neck and gave me a brief noogie. 

I tore him off and wrestled him onto the couch, and I think my force took him by surprise, but in a good way. The two of us fell to the floor, but Adam ignored us. “Finally,” he said, still way too loud in a house with six other people floating around. “Another one of the Pike triplets is getting some!” he cackled, adding a loud, evil sounding laugh to the mix. 

I heard a thump, thump, thump of someone clumping down the stairs. I’d finally pinned Jordan down and was trying to pry his mouth open so I could shove a sock in it when I saw Vanessa appear around the corner. I got off Jordan’s chest, as if I were so mature as to be above wrestling with my brothers, and sat down on the couch with my sock in hand. Jordan gave me a faux-evil look—he clearly couldn’t believe I’d actually beat him—and sat up, his back against the coffee table. “May we help you?” Jordan asked Vanessa, who was watching us, looking irritated.

“What the hell is going on here?” was her only reply. 

Jordan eyed her cautiously, his brows knitted together for a moment. “Sex talk,” he finally answered levelly. He seemed to be concerned about her affect, which was still lacking. 

Vanessa looked from Adam, still sitting on the arm of the couch, grinning like an idiot, to Jordan, his head tipped to one side, to me, still holding my sock in one hand, and she shook her head. “Okay then, I’ll be leaving.” 

“No, wait,” Adam called to her back. “Help me out here. I’m trying to get a count on how many people the kids in this family have slept with.” 

She turned around. “Pray tell, why?” 

Adam shrugged. “The advancement of science?” he suggested with a completely straight face. Jordan laughed and Vanessa relaxed, although she still looked wary. I watched everything silently, just glad that they weren’t focused on me anymore. “Anyway, Vanessa, what’s your count?” 

“Oh, honestly.” Vanessa rolled her eyes and dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. 

Jordan got up and sped to the stairwell, blocking Vanessa from retreating. “Spill, or we’re going to assign you some really high number.” 

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “I hate you guys,” she growled, directly at him. “Okay,” she said, addressing the room as a whole. “Two.” 

Two? Oh, two guys. One of them was her ex from last year; the second must be her current boyfriend. Adam made a big show of counting on his fingers and I stifled a comment. “To my knowledge,” he said finally, “that makes eleven.” 

Okay, now I was really lost. Five for Adam, two for Vanessa, and one for me made eight. “Eleven?!” Vanessa exclaimed, echoing my thoughts. “You guys have slept with nine girls…” Her eyes flicked over to me and she amended that statement. “…uh, I mean people?” 

“Us and Mallory.” 

“Mallory,” Vanessa acknowledged with another roll of her eyes but with an apparent lack of surprise. “Huh.” 

“Keep in mind,” Jordan told her as he reclaimed his old spot and she settled onto the coffee table next to his head, “that one particular person is responsible for about half of that count.” He not-so-subtly pointed at Adam, who pretended not to notice. 

“Adam, really?” Vanessa put an elbow on Jordan’s head and leaned on it. He looked vaguely annoyed, but let her go on. “What, four? Five?” 

“Five.” 

She smiled slightly as she shook her head. “That’s really special.” She was oozing sarcasm. Obviously, she didn’t find Adam’s way with the ladies to be something to get enthusiastic about. “You,” she added, switching her attention from Adam to her arm rest, who was wiggling around—it looked like she was digging into his scalp—“You had better be at a big fat zero, because I know Haley is.” 

Jordan finally got loose from her arm. “Yup,” he said, not making eye contact. I couldn’t figure out why he was so upset about this. Everyone in the room already knew he was still a virgin anyway. He rubbed his head. 

“Good, because otherwise Byron and I would have to kick your ass.” Vanessa got off the table and sat down beside me. I’d finally gotten my sock back on, and until now, I’d managed to stay out of the conversation. She leaned over me to see Adam, not even asking for my count, and for that I breathed a sigh of relief. “Does this mean that Mal has slept with four guys?” 

Adam put on a serious face, his gaze flicking to me for a moment before turning back to Vanessa, and I knew my privacy was about to be invaded. Again. “Nope, just three.” 

Vanessa puckered up her lips, looking confused. “But you said…” she started, looking the room over. I could nearly see her counting in her head—five for Adam, three for Mal, none for Jordan—before the pieces of the puzzle came together for her. “Wait a minute. Byron! Way to go!” 

I put my head in my hands. Three sets of eyes watched me, so I moved my hands enough to speak between them. “You’re all acting like I did something miraculous,” I pointed out. There hadn’t been a roundtable discussion when anyone else had lost their virginity, so why was mine so interesting to everyone else? 

Jordan kicked the side of my foot gently with his bare toes, and I finally looked up. “Considering we all thought we’d never see this day,” he said without a hint of kidding, “you kinda did.” 

“Ugh!” I glared at them, trying to indicate my contempt for this conversation, even though I had a feeling it would do no good. 

And I was right; my irritation just fueled the fire. “So, are you a top or a bottom?” Vanessa asked, leaning toward me. 

I stood up from the couch. “I’m leaving now,” I announced. 

Adam grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me back into my seat. “No, no, don’t go,” Vanessa insisted, seeing the clear annoyance in my expression. “It’s okay. I’ll just ask Haley later.” 

Jordan wrinkled his nose. “Remind me to go somewhere far, far away during that conversation,” he said, turning to Adam. 

Adam waggled his eyebrows. “Me, too.” 

“Okay, good. Can we let my sex life drop now?” 

Adam smirked. “Oh, hell no.” 

There were more footsteps on the stairs and Margo appeared. She’d been playing with makeup, similar to the way she had when she was a pre-teen, but in a more understated way. She’d mentioned during the afternoon that she had a date tomorrow evening, so I assumed she was ‘perfecting’ her look. “What is going on down here?” she demanded. “You guys are _so_ loud. You’re ruining my concentration.” 

Vanessa looked up to the stairs from the couch. “We’re counting up the number of people we’ve fucked,” she called cheerfully. “You want to add to the total?” 

Margo stopped in her tracks, shocked both, I think, at the message and the language used to convey it. “What?!” 

Adam addressed her over his shoulder. “Between your five oldest brothers and sisters, we’re at eleven people.” 

Margo wandered into the room and plopped down next to Jordan on the coffee table. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, sounding dazed. 

Jordan picked a paper plate off the table and put it on her head. “Nope,” he insisted. “Not kidding, just fucking.” 

Following Vanessa’s lead, Margo rolled her eyes. When she spoke, she didn’t seem to believe anything any of them were saying. “Eleven. Charming. That’s like, two apiece.” 

“Not really,” Vanessa said. She leaned in closer to Margo and whispered, but we all caught it anyway. “One of them is a virgin.”

Now she was intrigued. “Really?” she asked in a low voice, as if the guys couldn’t hear her and the conversation was private between her and Vanessa. “I know it’s not you and it’s not Mal. I once caught her having phone sex in the middle of the night.”

Everyone sitting in the room blanched. “ _What_?” Adam exclaimed. “Ew.” 

“Exactly,” Margo said. Realizing that the rest of us were listening in anyway, she spoke to the group as a whole. “So what’s the matter with one of you guys? Nineteen and still a virgin.” 

I was watching Margo closely and I realized she was looking right at me. Sitting next to her, Jordan was blushing furiously, but Margo didn’t even notice. “Hey,” I said, trying to draw attention away from him long enough for his cheeks to return to their normal color, “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.” 

She beamed triumphantly. “So says the virgin,” she exclaimed. 

Vanessa squinted her eyes at Margo. “Aren’t _you_ a virgin?” she asked, trying to stop the teasing. It was probably the nicest thing Vanessa had done for a sibling in a long time. 

“Yeah, but I’m not even sixteen yet,” she rebutted. “Give me a few years!” 

I looked at Margo, sitting there with four shades of eye shadow on her eyes and dreams of her ‘big date’ on her mind, and I suddenly got the vision of her asking questions about how far she should go or when she should ‘give it up’, and I felt slightly ill. Like Mom said, I’ll accept it, but I don’t have to like it. “I’m going to repeat,” I said, looking into her eyes, “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin.” 

She looked back at me, her eyes wide, the message received, before she crinkled her face up. I knew I was about to get teased some more. “Look at the way he throws the word ‘virgin’ around,” Margo cracked. “I never thought I’d see the day when Byron could talk about sex in any way and not blush.” 

I glared at her and she smiled, extra sweetly. Adam leaned forward and put his arm around me. “This is nothing. We need to get him really talking.” I swung the glare around to him, silently willing him to let the topic go. “Byron, repeat after me.” 

“No way.” 

Adam snickered. “Well, what if I dare you?” he asked. 

I lowered my voice, both in volume and in pitch. “That only works with Hay,” I answered, knowing he was referring to spring break last year, when I’d admitted that Haley and I dared each other to do stuff all the time. Neither of us had put forth a dare since then; we hadn’t needed to. That had been something to fill the time back when the two of us had no lives. 

Jordan laughed. “Bullshit. She took that dare Jeff gave her.” He was grinning his head off. Of course he remembered that, since that was when Hay kissed him for the first time. 

“That’s her, not me,” I insisted. 

Adam started snickering. “Jordan, go call her right now.” 

Jordan seemed to be more amused than serious about this whole conversation. “She’s at work,” he said, dismissing Adam without a second thought. 

Vanessa was bored with our digression. “Byron, just fucking repeat after him so we can all get on with our lives!” she exclaimed. 

Margo raised her eyebrow. She was playing with her ponytail. “Am I missing something here?” she asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Vanessa replied. 

Even Jordan was in on it now. “Come on, Byron!” he urged. 

I leveled a glare at him now, too. “I hate you all,” I insisted. 

Margo reached over and put a hand on my shoulder. “They’re not going to leave you alone until you agree,” she said. She was the only one not laughing and teasing. 

I looked from Margo, who shrugged, to the rest of my siblings, who just wanted me to join in the fun. And hadn’t I said I was trying to get the stick out of my ass? I sighed and muttered “Fuck!” under my breath. “All right, Adam, get it over with.” 

If Adam’s smirk got any bigger, it would be hanging off his face. “I…” he started, waiting for me to follow him. 

“I…” I intoned, my affect as flat as humanly possible, attempting to convey my absolute disgust and contempt at actually doing what Adam wanted me to do. 

“Had…” 

“Had…” 

“Sex with Jeff.” 

The room got really quiet for just a second as everyone waited for me to finish the statement, but that second seemed to drag on forever. Finally, Margo broke the silence. “What?” she exclaimed, shifting from Adam to me, surprise evident in every corner of her face. 

“Adam!” I hissed. I hadn’t expected him to go quite _that_ direction with his little game. 

Vanessa started laughing. “That was priceless,” she said to Jordan, who just shook his head at her. “Now it sounds like Adam had sex with Jeff, too.” 

Adam turned a little defensive at Vanessa’s comment, even though it was accurate. “Well, he never came out and just said it. I just want to hear him say it out loud.” 

I could only see one way out of this conversation. So even though it was completely out of character, I decided to get Adam off my back. “If I say it out loud, will you all kindly fuck off?” 

My brothers exchanged a glance. “Maybe,” Jordan teased. 

I took a deep breath, my face hot and probably, crimson. “Okay, ready?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for a response. I stood up and actually shouted—hopefully, not loud enough for Mom and Dad to hear, “I had sex with Jeff!” I sat back down and looked at Adam. “Happy now?” 

No one responded verbally. I wasn’t sure if I’d actually managed to shock them, or if they were waiting to see if anyone charged down the stairs to shout at me. I did hear instant movement upstairs and I cringed, hoping it wasn’t Mom or Dad. But when it became clear that someone was running, I relaxed…just a little. There was only one person that could be, and she burst into the rec room a moment later, with eyes only for me. “Did I just hear you yell the word sex?” Claire asked. 

I wrinkled up my nose, not wanting to repeat my little declaration for my thirteen-year-old sister. “You must have imagined that,” I insisted. 

Claire shook her head, looking peeved. She’s always hated the way conversation sometimes stops just because she walks into a room. “’Fraid not. I’m certain that’s what you said,” she insisted. This was met by absolute silence, and Claire grew more frantic and annoyed. “Oh, no, you are not going to pull this bullshit on me anymore! I’m way too old for you all to be keeping everything in the universe from me.” 

Margo and I looked at each other, then back at Claire. “She’s kinda right,” Margo admitted slowly. “I mean, she’ll be in high school next year.” 

Adam made a face. “I guess. I just feel like this started off as an adult conversation and has gone way downhill since then.” 

Jordan snorted. “That started the moment you began telling us how many girls you’ve slept with,” he said, half seriously. 

Margo’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Now I know who the virgin is!” 

Claire looked around from Margo, still grinning, to Jordan, avoiding eye contact with everyone, to me—because she knew I’d been shouting about sex. “Ooh, sex talk!” she cried. “I want in!” 

Adam seemed to have accepted that Claire was no longer in preschool, so he scooted to one side and let her squish in between us. She grinned like we’d just made her whole life, and Adam rolled his eyes at her. “The only way you can get ‘in’ is if you want to add to our count. We’re trying to figure out how many people all the Pike kids have slept with.” 

Claire was basking in the attention of all her siblings. I seriously hoped she had no numbers to add to the tally, but not wanting to be left out after all this, she spoke anyway. “You might want to talk to Nick.” 

Vanessa dismissed that idea with a gesture. “I’m pretty sure Nick’s still a virgin,” she said with a certain sense of authority. 

“I don’t know,” Margo interjected. “He did go out with the sophomore class slut last night. If he were ever going to get lucky, yesterday would have been the night.” 

Vanessa shook her head. “Nope, Nick’s still a virgin,” she repeated authoritatively. 

“Anyway,” Claire turned the subject back to what interested her. “Without Nick, what’s the total?” 

“Eleven,” Adam told her. 

“Awesome!” 

Jordan clucked his tongue. “Listen to her. ‘Awesome.’ As if this were something to be particularly proud about.” Claire stuck her tongue out at him. 

“You know what I’m wondering,” Margo said, looking more pensive than normal, “What kind of statistics you could figure out from this. Like averages and stuff.” 

Vanessa looked at her cross-eyed. “Why are you so interested in math problems all of a sudden?” 

She grew a little pink. “Well, if we work out the average age that you all lost your virginity, then maybe I’ll figure out when I’ll get to lose mine,” she admitted. 

Adam laughed. “Hey, I like that logic,” he said. 

Vanessa had shifted so that she, like Adam, was sitting on the arm of the couch, leaving me and Claire enough room to stretch out a little. “Byron, you should whip out your calculator and engineer us up those statistics,” she said, putting her bare—and icy cold—toes on my arm. 

“Me?” I squeaked. “Why?” 

Claire guffawed. “You’re the engineer!” she replied, as if this should be completely obvious. 

I spoke without hesitation, realizing telling almost everyone at once was the easiest way to deal with this. “Actually, I’m no longer an engineering major,” I announced. “As of fall, I know longer go to Duke, either.” 

The result of my pronouncement? A bunch of open-mouthed stares. Adam found his voice first. “What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood what I’d said. 

Jordan was more direct in his question. “You dropped out of school?” 

“No,” I insisted. “Just transferred. I’ll be a sociology major at the University of California Berkeley starting in the fall.” 

“Wow,” Vanessa murmured. 

“Did you do that to be closer to your lover boy?” Margo asked in a flutter of eyelashes. 

I rolled my eyes in her direction. “If I did, Berkeley was a lousy campus to pick. It’s in the northern part of the state, six hours away from Jeff. It’s by San Francisco.” 

“Well, that explains everything,” Vanessa said, still under her breath. 

I gave her an evil eye. “I picked it because it’s a great school. No other reason.” 

My brothers had been silent ever since I’d mentioned Berkeley. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, although I couldn’t figure out exactly what they were thinking. As was usual when we were speechless, Adam became the mouthpiece. “Sociology,” he said, flummoxed. “What the hell do you do with a sociology degree?” 

“Get a master’s degree,” I insisted. “I plan to get become a social worker.” 

Jordan shook his head. “You and Jeff,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. “The do-gooders of the world. He’ll teach them and you’ll save them from themselves.” 

I grinned back at him, because he seemed to be the first one to actually accept what I was saying without sarcasm or question. “You manage to pick a major yet, Jordan?” I teased in return. 

“Actually, I have,” he said, as if I were serious. “I’m working toward a degree in hospitality and event management.” 

“I’m going to repeat myself,” Adam said. “What the hell do you do with _that_?” 

“Manage a hotel, at least that’s what I want to do.” Jordan thumped Adam on the shoulder with a closed fist. 

“Wow,” Claire spoke up for the first time in a while. “Is this what happens when you go off to college? You come home screaming about sex and deciding you want to live in a hotel? If that’s what it’s like, then I can’t wait.” 

Vanessa stared her down. “This whole conversation,” she said seriously, “and that’s all you’ve come away with?” Claire shrugged, smiling wide. 

We’d been so animated in our talk that we hadn’t heard the exterior door open and close, or the shoes on the stairs. “Hey, what’s going on down here?” Nick asked. His cheeks were rosy and he seemed cheerful, which was not an adjective I was used to using to describe him. I wondered, vaguely, if he’d been drinking. 

Vanessa, ever the smart aleck, turned to him. “Oh, we were just talking about you behind your back,” she sassed. 

This time last year, he would have turned red and stormed off if she’d said that, even if he’d known she was kidding. Instead, he hitched his thumbs through his belt loop. “Only the bad stuff, I hope,” he said, completely deadpan. 

“The worst,” Adam agreed. Nick sat down beside Margo on the table and Adam looked around at the whole crew—all of our siblings except the oldest, gathered as if we were having the type of ‘Pike family meeting’ we’d had a lot when we were kids. “Actually, we were discussing your virginity…and everyone else’s, for that matter.” 

Nick gave Adam a look. “I’m not even going to ask,” he asserted. 

“Oh, but I am,” Adam retorted. “Are you still a virgin, Nick?” 

Nick floundered for a moment, surprised by the point-blank question, but finally nodded. “Yeah. I’m saving myself for the right girl.” 

Jordan had a sudden look of recognition. “Oh, and are you taking her to prom this year?” he asked Nick, who turned downcast and shook his head. 

Vanessa assessed the two of them for a moment and then spoke directly to Jordan. “No, he waited too long and she’d already asked someone else herself.” Nick glared at her. “Oh, like it’s a big secret, sugar. If you don’t want people to know who your giant crush is, maybe you should be less obvious about it.” Both Margo and Claire nodded, apparently knowing who this mystery crush was. Vanessa turned to me. “He’s even more obvious than you were with Jeff before you two started dating.” 

I remembered those days and smiled when I recalled Adam telling me the whole world was going to know how I felt if I kept staring at Jeff like that. “Don’t worry about it, Nick. It worked out okay for me, and I’m sure if it’s meant to be, it’ll work out okay for you as well.” 

Nick shrugged, but he did look a little happier. “So, since I missed it, what’s the virgin count?” he asked, but I think he was more interested in changing the topic than actually knowing who was sleeping with whom. 

“Fifty-fifty,” Adam replied. “I won’t tell you who’s where, except to assure you that I have slept with more girls than all the rest of this room put together.” 

“Fabulous,” Nick said, sounding much like Vanessa had when he’d told her the same thing earlier. Adam made a face, hoping for a better response. “I’m going to take a shower now. Let me know if anyone’s virginity changes while I’m in there, okay?” 

Vanessa stood up with him. “Good one,” she murmured. She seemed to actually admire the comment, but not enough to let Nick know that. 

The two of them left the room together, Nick right in front of Vanessa, and I heard a muffled conversation when they reached the ground floor. Claire looked at the rest of us still sitting in the room, and finally seemed to notice Margo’s makeup. “Hey, did you decide how you were doing your eyes for tomorrow?” Margo looked wary but shook her head. “I saw this article on how to do smoky eyes in one of my magazines. If you want, I’ll show it to you. You can even practice on me,” she added hopefully. 

Margo contemplated that for a moment, then agreed. “Alright. Where’s the article?” The two of them also left the room together, leaving me with Adam and Jordan again. 

“And so we’re back where we started,” Jordan observed. He sat back down on the couch between me and Adam. 

“I like it best this way,” Adam admitted. He got off the arm of the couch and leaned back in his seat, nearly sliding off. “I mean, I don’t totally hate our sisters and Nick, and I like our friends okay, but just the three of us together—that’s classic.” 

“Remember the time we accidentally flooded the basement?” I asked, getting into the nostalgic mood I usually left to Adam. 

Jordan wrapped his arms around my neck and Adam’s. “Or that time we tried to tamper with Mal’s hair dye to turn her hair green?” 

“Or the day that we only spoke in a made up language? Everyone else thought we knew what we were saying to each other, but we had no clue.” 

Adam chuckled. “We need to make sure we get the most out of our summer, and not go so long without seeing each other this year coming up.” 

I sat up straighter and Jordan’s arm was left dangling. He stuck it on the back of the couch. “There’s always that idea you had, Adam, right before we went off to college.” He was thinking so hard trying to remember that conversation that we’d had while he was drunk that he scrunched his face up until it looked like a monkey’s. “You said we should get together every year on our birthday. That sounds pretty good to me, because then we’ll see each other three times a year: at Christmas, our birthdays and then in July sometime, when Mom and Dad fly me in for a visit.” 

Adam stopped looking like an ape, but he didn’t look happy either. “Wait. You mean you’re not coming home for summer next year?” he asked. 

I shook my head. “Just for a week or two. I’m going to need to have a job out in Berkeley if I want to make ends meet. That will help me save up enough money for a plane ticket for our birthday. We can take turns visiting each other.” 

Jordan caught my enthusiasm. “Yeah! Byron and I can go visit you next April. I’ve always wanted to see what a frat house was like when there _wasn’t_ a party going on. What do you say, Adam?” 

I was hoping for him to get on board, but instead he just looked over at me sullenly. “This is our last summer together,” he said dully. 

“Not necessarily. You never know where life is going to take you. Maybe someday we’ll all find jobs in the same town. Or maybe you two will be rich enough that you’ll be able to take all your summers off and spend them in the same town I live in.” 

Adam finally cracked a small smile. “Yeah, we’re going to need to be rich, because you sure as hell ain’t going to be. You’ll be a civil servant with a whole mess of student loans.” 

That was true, but…. “I’ll be happy, though,” I said quietly. “And isn’t that what really matters?” 

Adam watched me for a moment. “Okay,” he finally acquiesced, acknowledging defeat. “You guys can come visit me for our birthday next year. Spend a little time living my life.” 

Jordan had been sitting a little tensely as Adam had sulked, but he finally relaxed and pulled us back into a hug. It was just like the one we’d had back in Maine, after I’d apologized to Jordan for the way I’d wound out coming out to him. I held my spare arm out and, taking the hint, my brothers put their hands on top of mine (after Jordan managed to pull himself free) and I stuck my other on top. “All for one,” I began. 

“And one for all!” we all three chorused together.


	2. ...Hello, Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing how much changes while you're gone...and yet, everything really stays the same.

Superjeff15: so my flight comes in on monday at like seven at night. ru going to be able to come get me or ru going to make me ride back to stoneybrook with richard?  
Byronp86: Well, I was going to come get you until you said that. Now I might let you and Richard have a ‘chat’ about stuff instead.  
Superjeff15: niiiiiiiiice lol  
Byronp86: Of course I’m coming for you. I had to arrange with my brothers, Vanessa AND my parents just to be able to take the car for the whole day. Apparently the two of us now “seriously owe” Vanessa, which is extremely scary.  
Superjeff15: yah, agreed  
Byronp86: I’ll be coming straight from work, so depending on traffic I may be a little late. Or I might find and pick up another guy on the way, in which case I’ll be really late.  
Superjeff15: whats gotten into u, mr sense of humor?  
Byronp86: I’ve been subjected to large doses of Adam over the last 24 hours.  
Superjeff15: now everything makes sense.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around, I was starting to feel like I was getting back into the routine of life in the Pike house. Despite the fact that we were up pretty late, Jordan managed to talk me into getting up early with him to work out. (We asked Adam to join us, but he just told us to fuck off and rolled back over in bed.) Jordan was used to getting up at four a.m. every morning, while I could easily sleep in to ten if I don’t have to be up, so we compromised by going running at seven in the morning. 

We were just about to head home from the high school track when we ran into Robby DelMar, a friend of ours since middle school. By the time the three of us had finished updating each other on our lives (and promising to stay in better touch), it was late enough that most of our family would be up when we finally made it home. 

“Who do you think will still be asleep?” Jordan asked me, just to make conversation. 

I pondered that briefly. “Umm, most likely Nick and Adam,” I mused. They were the two people in the family who routinely outslept me. 

“I’ll see that,” Jordan countered, “and raise you a Vampire Vanessa. That is, if she even went to sleep last night at all.” 

It’s a good thing we hadn’t made a bet. Neither of us was right, but Jordan was closer. Claire and Margo were watching television in the rec room when we walked in…until Mom walked down there and turned it off, hollering at the two of them to get their chores and homework done. Dad was outside weeding his garden, which was a fruitless task. The only thing that ever grows in that bed is weeds. None of our other siblings were visible, so I’d assumed Jordan had been right about his assessment. That is, until I went into my bedroom. 

I’d just started stripping off my sweaty workout clothes, hoping to beat Jordan to the shower, when Nick ambushed me. “I need your help with a girl problem,” he announced, scaring the shit out of me. I hadn’t even had a chance to notice he was out of bed. 

I had just taken off every last scrap of clothing I was wearing when he’d spoken. “Can this at least wait until I put my robe on?” I asked, stifling a sigh. I wasn’t really mad at Nick; I just knew Jordan was going to be taking his hour-long shower by the time this conversation ended. 

If my irritation shone through, Nick was oblivious. “Sure.” 

I shrugged on my bathrobe and closed the tie. “Do you really think I can help you with a girl problem?” I asked him as I sat down on my bed and arranged the tails so that I was mostly covered. “Wouldn’t Adam or Jordan be a better choice?” 

Nick sat on his own bed so we were facing each other. “I already asked Jordan, and he was helpful…but now I need some _more_ assistance. I don’t want to milk that cow dry, you know?” I knew what he meant, but I was distracted briefly by the vivid imagery. “And Adam…well, you know him. This isn’t really a ‘girl question’ anyway; it’s more of a decent-human-being question. And sometimes, Adam….” 

“Say no more,” I finished quickly. I knew exactly what he meant by that, too. Adam wasn’t a horrible person, but he was liable to tease and be cruel rather than helpful if Nick actually tried to ask him for advice, at least at first. He’d come through with good advice in the end, but Nick probably wouldn’t wait that long. “Does this have to do with your mystery crush from last night?” I asked, hoping to get him talking. 

“Becca,” he acknowledged with an exaggerated sigh. 

I leaned forward. “Becca Ramsey?” 

“Yup. I don’t know what it is about her. I just…” 

“No need to go on,” I said, holding up my hands. “None of us can explain why we like who we like. It’s that whole ‘ineffable quality’ about someone that you just can’t put into words.” Nick nodded slowly, although I think I’d lost him at _ineffable_. “How can I help you with Becca?” 

Nick paused for a moment, choosing his words extremely carefully. “Before you and Jeff started dating, you had a crush on him right?” I gave a slight nod, although I was wary of what was coming next. “How did you get him to start seeing you as dating material instead of a friend?” 

I considered that question. “I didn’t do anything,” I admitted. “Jeff told me that he’d never really considered dating a guy before me, so when he first saw me after all those years, he thought, ‘oh, hey, it’s my old buddy.’ But something shifted in his mind within the first couple hours of us being in the car. He told me when I visited him over spring break that he thought about kissing me almost right away, but he waited till the perfect moment.” 

Nick looked downcast. “So you didn’t really have anything to do with it,” he surmised. “He just happened to have the same feelings you did.” 

“Yup,” I admitted. Nick slumped on his bed and sighed, wallowing in a moment of depression. I felt for him, because he looked like I’d just shattered his dreams. “You never know, though, Nick. Just because she doesn’t seem interested now doesn’t mean it’s hopeless. What happened with prom, exactly?” 

He was still moping. “I asked her before school the second day tickets were on sale, and she was all apologetic about it, saying she’d already asked someone else.” 

I thought about that. “Here’s the real question: do you think that if you’d asked her before she had another date, would she have said yes?” 

Nick pondered that. This was really the quietest—and nicest—conversation I’d had with him in years. It was good to know there was a happy medium between unhappy-stoner Nick and girl-crazy-flirt Nick. “I honestly don’t know. I mean, I asked her out back in November, but I think she thought I was joking. She told me it would be like going on a date with her brother.” 

I cringed on his behalf. “Yikes.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve been being really nice to her ever since and now, instead of avoiding me in the halls and stuff, she will actually have a conversation with me…” He wiggled a little on the bed, finding a pillow and putting it behind his head. “I still don’t know if it’s a brother-conversation or a friend-conversation or a cute-guy-conversation.” 

I nodded in sympathy. “Who is she going to prom with, anyway?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “She didn’t say.” 

“Well, here’s my thought. See who her date is and whether it’s a romantic thing or a friend thing. If it’s not romantic, ask her to save you a dance. If she takes you up on it, then there’s a chance she’s interested. If she keeps passing on the dance, then maybe back off, at least for now.” 

Nick was, despite the fact that he was still lolling on the bed, hanging on my every word. “How’d you get so smart about people?” he asked me eagerly. 

I smiled. “Quiet observation. If you don’t live life, you spend a lot of time just watching other people living.” 

His face slowly split into a grin. “I heard a rumor from a certain motor-mouth little sister that you’re no longer sitting on the sidelines.” 

I knew exactly what he meant, but I pretended I had no clue. “What do you mean?” 

Nick’s not dumb—he knew exactly what I was doing, and he took it as confirmation of what he was asking. In other words, he knew upon which side of the virginity fence I was sitting. “When does Jeff come back to town?” he asked instead. 

“Tomorrow evening,” I said, stretching carefully. One of my muscles was tight after my workout with Jordan; I might be able to take him in wrestling when I caught him off guard, but he was still much more fit than I was. “I’m picking him up at the airport after work, if everyone will let me take the car.” 

Nick nodded. “If I could drive,” he said drily, “I’d let you have the car.” 

I eyed him seriously, but I was smiling. “Thanks, brother,” I said, matching his tone. “That means a lot.” 

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and by this time, we were both grinning our heads off. “Honestly,” Nick said after a moment, and I noticed his change of tone right away. “No one should have any problem letting you have the car tomorrow. I mean, who here would stand in the way of true love?” He paused, and then smiled again. “Well, maybe Vanessa.” 

*** 

The two of us kept talking about Jeff and Becca for another twenty minutes. I’d heard the shower turn on shortly after Nick had started talking about prom and had expected that Jordan would be in there until the hot water ran out. That’s how he’d always taken showers on weekends in the past, sometimes while Adam stood outside the door and shouted stuff like, ‘You using your right hand or your left hand in there?’ and ‘You’ll go blind if you do that too much!’ 

But the shower turned back off just after Nick started describing the experiment he was working on in his chemistry class. He heard the water ending, too, and he knew exactly what that meant. “We can talk about this later,” he said. “We’ve got all summer, right?” 

I grabbed my towel and headed to the bathroom in time to see Jordan leaving and the door shutting tightly behind him. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. He was wearing only a clean pair of boxers and had, for some reason, wrapped his towel around his head. It was a fairly pointless gesture, as he had almost no hair to dry. “I told Margo you were waiting, and she said, ‘Tough shit.’” 

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Nick had closed the door tightly behind him when I’d left, and that could only mean one thing: Adam should have been standing outside of _my_ bedroom door for the next so many minutes. I didn’t have anything but my towel and my robe, so I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do next. I could hear some grotesque pop song playing in Margo and Claire’s room, with Claire singing along. (She’s about the only family member who won’t set dogs howling with her voice.) Adam was actually still asleep, and Vanessa apparently was too. Since Mom and Dad had gone to church and were staying for a potluck afterward, I thought it would be safe to check my email and see what Jeff had sent me the night before. 

I was just about to log in when Vanessa’s door opened. I looked up, expecting her to make some type of smart-ass remark about my attire, but she walked right by me as if she didn’t see me. She had a thick envelope in her hand and she wandered into the kitchen. I figured she was just absorbed in whatever poem or story she was writing now and not paying attention, so I ignored her as much as she ignored me. 

But when she passed me four more times in the next five minutes, looking more and more frantic as she did so, I began to be concerned. “Vanessa? Everything okay?” 

She looked over at me and blinked, emphasizing the fact that she actually hadn’t noticed my presence. “Nice outfit,” she snarked, unconsciously pulling her envelope closer to her chest, trying to prevent me from seeing what she was holding. 

“I aim to please,” I replied, matching her sarcasm. Vanessa rolled her eyes so hard it must have hurt. “If you’d tell _your_ little sister to quit hogging the bathroom, I could be showered and dressed by now.” 

“Hmm,” Vanessa responded, obviously not even listening to what I was saying. She clutched the mystery letter even tighter, leaving finger marks in the envelope. 

I stood up from the computer and eased myself into the doorway to her bedroom, preventing her from entering. “I’m going to repeat the question: Is everything okay, Vanessa?” 

She considered for a moment, then looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “I might have done something stupid,” she admitted. 

I raised an eyebrow, questioning the phrasing. “ _Might have_?” I repeated. “You’re going to have to give me more details than that.” 

She perched on the arm of the couch, her feet dangling inches above the floor, not speaking, watching me. I sighed and sat down beside her and slightly below her, because I was sure she wouldn’t say anything until she was ready. After a few minutes, she was still silent, but her feet were swinging, bouncing off the couch and making a dull thud. I went ahead and spoke. “What’s in the envelope?” 

“An acceptance letter.” 

I sat there waiting for some piece of information that would explain what kind of idiotic thing she may or may not have done. “To where, Vanessa? Starfleet? The University of Timbuktu?” 

She just handed me the envelope and I looked at it. I knew Vanessa had applied to several schools for mid-year enrollment over the past few weeks, but she hadn’t really been open to speaking about it with anyone. Mom had mentioned during the drive home that Vanessa had been ‘darkly depressed’ over the Vassar rejection, and I’d taken that to mean that she’d really been depressed, as opposed to faking depression and other Emo actions. “University of Connecticut?” I said, reading the logo on the envelope’s return address. “What’s the problem in that?” 

“Besides the fact that it’s UConn?” she retorted. I tilted my head to the side, giving her a look. I did understand what she was saying, though. UConn was the default school for anyone who came out of SHS with an average GPA and an urge to get the hell out of town. Vanessa, despite being quite bright and capable, definitely had the former. Most of my siblings had found that they were bright enough to skate through school without really trying, so that’s what they did. Vanessa should have been in AP English with Hay, but her straight-Cs in English didn’t show what she really was capable of. 

I ignored the slam on the school, which really wasn’t a bad choice on the whole, and opened the envelope, reading the acceptance letter that came with the enrollment packet. “School of business?” I asked out loud, surprised. 

“Yeah, that’s the mistake,” Vanessa said glumly. 

I thought maybe she meant that she’d meant to enroll in a different program but clicked the wrong thing on the computer (or filled in the wrong bubble on the paper.) “What’s wrong with that? You get there, you change majors. They’ll be cool with that.” 

Vanessa scrunched up her face, then rolled her tongue around in her mouth, contemplating. Rarely have I ever seen her at a loss for words. “No,” she finally said, “I wanted to be a business major. I’m just thinking maybe it’s not such a good idea after all.” 

I answered that with a single word. “Explain.” 

She sighed and drew in a deep breath. “You see, I applied for the English program at Vassar,” she started. “So when they rejected me, I got a little down on my writing skills. I started thinking about what else I might want to do with my life. And I thought….” 

“Yeeeees?” 

“I thought I might open a boutique someday,” she continued in a rush. “A clothing store.” 

“Okay,” I said, trying to get her to keep talking. “What kind of clothing boutique?” 

I saw an emotion pass her face I never thought I’d see on her: Vanessa was embarrassed. “A boutique for…differently sized people. Like there would be plus-sized clothes, and extra small clothes. You know how Haley has problems finding things that fit her in the adult department, so she mostly shops in the kids’ clothes? Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a store where you could go in and if they didn’t have what you liked in your size, they could get it for you? Plus, I could make deals with less-known designers…get them to design different sizes in exchange for showing their designs in the store.” 

I thought about that for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea,” I said slowly. “I bet a lot of people would like a store like that: people who are really tall, or really thin, or just a strange proportion.” 

And then I saw yet another thing I never expected to see on Vanessa: enthusiasm. “Yeah, that’s right! I even thought it could be like a personal shopper service: the boutique takes your measurements and takes pictures of you, then helps you find clothes that match your shape, age and coloring. A lot of bigger people wear shapeless clothes that do nothing toward slimming them. Wouldn’t it be great if someone could help them?” 

“Well,” I said after a minute, “You think this is a good idea and so do I. So why do you think that going to school for a business degree is stupid?” 

She shuffled her feet along the bottom of the couch for a minute, and I realized she was wearing the same clothes that she had been the day before. Jordan was probably right when he suggested that she hadn’t slept last night; the clothes didn’t look slept in. “When you think of Vanessa,” she answered, looking at the row of photos of her on the opposite wall: Newborn Vanessa in the hospital. Her on her fifth and thirteenth birthdays. And the recently added senior picture, showing her smiling shyly and looking out to nothing. She shook herself and continued. “You think of poetry. Would it really make sense for me to go to school and _not_ study English?” 

I answered a question with a question. “Last spring, when you thought of Byron, what did you think of? Brown-noser? Chicken shit?” She looked back at me and I saw a hint of a smile on her lips that could only mean _yes_. “If I’ve learned anything in the past year, it’s that you can’t define people in one word, or even one sentence. We’re all books, with chapters and chapters of back story. And the best part is, our stories are always being written and rewritten, so there’s always something new to read.” 

Vanessa sat there listening to that. When I was finished she watched me for a moment more, then sat down at the computer without saying anything. She logged into her MyFriends and typed out a new status, saying it out loud as she did so. “The Wisdom of Byron,” she pronounced. “Life is a Wikipedia entry, so keep adding and editing.” 

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I said,” I pointed out. 

“Yeah, I’m just modernizing you,” she quipped as she logged back out. 

I groaned and put my face in a pillow. “Why do I always feel like an old man after talking to you?” 

She smiled sweetly. “That’s what you get for trying to help me.” 

I heard Nick talking to Jordan in the hall upstairs and suddenly realized that my bedroom was free after all. “I’ll know better in the future.” 

I was almost out of the room when I heard her call, “Hey Byron?” I turned around, giving her a questioning look. “Thanks.” 

There was one last thing I thought I’d never see…or hear. “Any time.” 

*** 

I knew I had to get out of the house after I finally managed to take a (very cold) shower, and there was someone expecting me. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to find when I got to the Braddocks’. There had been a change in Hay over the last month, although I had no clue what was going on. We hadn’t spoken on the phone once since she’d appeared in _Guys and Dolls_ , and we hadn’t spent much time chatting online either. The really telling thing had been her MyFriends profile. Despite how upbeat and peppy she normally was in person, her profile was a study in deep and dark. Instead of bright colors, her background was set in muted shades. Her status updates were usually song lyrics, most of them depressing, or quick, factual notes on her life. She never posted any photos of herself. When Jeff asked her about it, she simply replied, ‘Who’d want to see a photo of me, anyway?’ 

All that was _before_ the change. Since early April, the tone of everything had shifted. Things were less sad and more angry. She changed the background to deep purple that drizzled down to a pewter gray. Every update she’d made had involved angry, indy grrrl music, the kind she had once dismissed as being music ‘for dirty girls with pit hair and Birkenstocks.’ I wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed the change, but it had me worried. If it weren’t for the fact that she and Jordan both still listed their status as ‘in a relationship,’ I might have been concerned that they broke up again. 

Mrs. Braddock met me at the door and, to be frank, she just stared at me for a while. I was getting used to that type of response out of people in North Carolina, but it was usually brief and ended with whoever it was saying, ‘Byron, is that you?’ I was not, however, used to the pause and silence going on indefinitely. I finally broke the stalemate. “Hi Mrs. B.! How are you today?” 

She smiled almost instantly, and I realized it wasn’t really surprise at my new look that was throwing her. She was trying to figure out which triplet, exactly, I was. Maybe Jordan hadn’t come by in the near-week he’d been home. I was pretty much the only person to call her ‘Mrs. B.,’ so that solved everything for her. “Hello, Byron. I’m doing well.” She held the door open and I scooted by her. “I like the new look.” 

“Thanks! I thought it was time to change my image a little, be a little more clean-cut.” 

Mrs. Braddock laughed. “Like they come any more clean-cut than you.” Mr. Braddock was seated on a couch in the living room, and he waved to me over his crossword puzzle. “Haley is up in her room, doing some cleaning. You can head on up.” 

I could hear Haley’s music playing long before I got to her room. It was one of her favorite songs of all time, and I had a feeling—which was confirmed for me a short time later—that she was playing the same song, over and over again, on a loop. I stood outside listening for a moment and then opened her door without knocking, even though there was a fair shot it might annoy her. She was bent over her bed, sorting and folding her laundry, mouthing the words but not actually singing along. “You know what’s special?” I asked loudly, getting her attention almost instantly, “I think I could sing this whole song without any help from the original singer.” 

Hay didn’t look up from her laundry, although I could tell she was smiling. She was wearing her hair in two braids with pink ribbons tied at the ends. “Let me test you on that,” she said. She paused her IPod, which was hooked up to speakers spread all over her room. “Join me,” she said as she picked up the lyrics near the end of the song. “Take a minute from their lives one by one…” 

I really have no business singing, but it was just the two of us and I knew she wouldn’t judge…as long as I got the lyrics right. “…and remember everything I had done and everything I’d been,” I sang in ‘harmony’ along with her. “Or will the world just spin on and on? Will they miss me when I’m gone?” we continued. 

“That’s pretty impressive,” Hay commended me. She finally turned to look at me and began to speak, but instead her mouth hung open for a moment as she took in my hair, clothes and glasses. “Wow,” was all she said, quieter than normal. “You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to change,” she murmured. 

I shrugged. I was glad she hadn’t seen the haircut when I’d first gotten it done. Ever since spring break, I’d been growing it out some. Jeff hadn’t complained about my hair, but I could tell by his reaction that he’d liked it better longer. He was flying in tomorrow night, and I was waiting anxiously for his response on my growing-out look. “You told me to get a haircut at some point this year,” I reminded her. “This is all really your fault.” 

She grinned. “Okay, guilty as charged.” She put the rest of her laundry back in the basket and patted the bed. The two of us sat down, her back against the pillows, mine against her footboard. She tossed me one of her three thousand pillows and I put it between me and the bed. We put our feet together, pushing against each other. It was a game we’d played for years, always trying to see who could ‘win’ by getting their legs straight. “Honestly, though, By—and don’t try to lie to me and tell me otherwise—this isn’t just a haircut. I’m not talking about the glasses or the attire, either. Cutting off your hair is some kind of statement about how you’re not going to hide anymore.” 

A snarky comment died on my lips. Why does Hay know me better than I know myself? I’d never been able to explain to everyone who asked why I’d decided to chop my hair off, but she was absolutely right about it. If I’d worn my hair long as a fashion statement instead of a shield, it would have been so much easier to cut it off. I’d agonized for days over whether or not to follow through after the idea had first occurred to me. “No point in lying,” I answered by way of agreement. “You’re always right, Hay.” 

“Care to let the rest of the world know that, especially my parents?” she asked facetiously. “C’mon. We have so much to talk about. Where shall I start?” 

I smiled indulgently, knowing that ‘having so much to talk about’ meant that she was going to prattle into my ear about the circumstances of her life for the next half hour or even hour. Honestly, at that moment, I wanted nothing different. “Why don’t you start in January?” I suggested. 

Hay waved that idea away, both literally and figuratively. “No, January was really boring. Oh, I know! I took my AP English test last week, and I think I did pretty well. I really should thank you for goading me into taking that class.” 

I shook my head. “No thanks necessary. I knew you’d love it.” 

“Ms. Marquez is awesome, isn’t she? Did I tell you she’s chaperoning the prom?” Prom, in case you couldn’t guess from all the mania, was the next weekend. “My mom’s going prom-crazy this year. Not only is she letting me get my hair professionally done, we’re actually doing a mother-daughter spa day, with massages and facials and mani-pedis. Part of me wants to go, ‘oh, kill me now,’ but the other part’s looking forward to spending time with Mom.” 

I hid a grin. Hay, like most teenaged girls, moans about her mother on a regular basis, but not only is Mrs. Braddock pretty cool (for a mom), but Hay also seems willing to admit that fact. “Yeah, prom is a big topic of conversation at my house, too. I understand that you and your girl posse will be riding in style?” 

“Bill and P are renting a limo,” Hay acknowledged. She had given up playing ‘footwar’ with me because I wasn’t letting her win. I folded my legs and she pulled hers up in front of her, hugging her knees and wiggling her toes. I noticed that, for the first time I could remember, she’d painted her toenails. She hadn’t even done that for prom last year. “Sometimes, having friends with rich boyfriends works to your advantage.” 

“Is there a time when it _doesn’t_ work to your advantage?” 

She snorted. “I haven’t found one yet.” We were quiet for just a moment, smirking at one another, before she spoke again. “Speaking of boyfriends, I understand that yours is flying into town tomorrow and you’re picking him up at the airport?” I nodded with a giant smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing him something fierce and I’m sure you are too. But you did just see him in March, of course. How was spring break?” 

“Spring break was…amazing,” I told her loftily. “Jeff and I had the best time.” 

Haley leaned forward. “Did you remember our pact?” she asked. 

“Of course I did, goofy,” I insisted indignantly. “Aren’t I the one who suggested that pact in the first place?” 

“So, did you follow through on it, then?” 

“Of course,” I repeated. 

Hay was growing impatient. I was dragging the conversation out for two reasons: I knew that it would irritate her as always, but I also knew that if I gave her what she wanted, she was totally going to freak out, and I wasn’t sure that it would be in the good way. I knew we would have to have that conversation eventually, but I didn’t see any need for it to be right away. “Well?” she demanded. 

I shrugged and smiled at her again. Hay narrowed her eyes at me briefly, realizing what I was playing at, and then relaxed and changed the subject. “Well, I had a fabulous time in Florida for _my_ spring break,” she related with a twinkle in her eye. That twinkle made me realize we weren’t really changing subjects—we were just shifting from _my_ sex life to _hers_. “We slept together in the same bed most of the time I was there,” she proclaimed. 

I raised my eyebrow. That was her big announcement? I had fully expected that to happen, anyway. It was a college dorm; there were no ‘adults’ to disapprove. 

But on the other hand, this was Hay we were talking about. She and Jordan might have spent a lot of their time touching and kissing, but there was always some kind of invisible barrier between them. All three of us knew what that barrier was, but it was so invisible that it couldn’t be dealt with. She freaked whenever she felt she had lost control of the situation. To cuddle up on a bed with Jordan, not knowing where his hands—or other parts—would end up while he slept was actually a big deal. I scooted over next to her, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. She took that as all the answer she needed. “I know that doesn’t sound like much,” she continued. 

“But to you,” I finished for her, “it’s a big deal.” 

She nodded, putting her head on my shoulder and sighing. She was wearing a gray t-shirt, tighter than I could remember her wearing before, and a pair of army-green capri pants that cinched around her mid-calf. While her clothes were somber looking, her pink hair ribbons and peacock blue toenails told a different story. “There’s more,” she said, more quietly, almost in a whisper. “I touched him.” 

I put my head on top of hers. “You’re always touching him,” I replied, totally deadpan. If it had been anyone else that had told me that, I probably would have asked if they wanted a medal. But with Hay being so serious, I knew more was going on than that. 

“This was different, By,” she insisted. I sat up in order to look at her face. She was smiling slightly, and she seemed proud. “I touched him…there.” 

I went through a range of emotions myself after the meaning of that hit me, but I finally settled on surprised. Suddenly I understood why she was feeling so proud of herself, because that actually was a huge step for her. “You two were naked together?” I surmised. 

Haley looked away. “No,” she admitted. “And the first time, it was an accident. I just sort of bumped…it…with my hand. I even apologized for it, even though Jordan said it was okay and pretty much gave me permission.” I could imagine her pulling her hand away as if she’d touched a hot coal, and I restrained myself from smirking again. “But then I decided that, since I didn’t throw up or explode, I was maybe ready for this. So I figured I’d do the same thing on purpose. 

“I was just about to do it when I lost my nerve. I started to pull my hand back…” Hay faded out for a moment. She wasn’t looking at me as she spoke, and if it weren’t for the fact that I was nearly staring at her, our legs still side by side, I might have thought she had forgotten she was even speaking to me. “He grabbed my hand and told me I could trust him, and when I didn’t freak out, he guided me to touching him. He just held his hand over mine for a while.” 

I snuggled back up next to her and Hay put her head back on my shoulder, wrapping her arms around my neck. She was back in her safe zone. “Wow,” I told her by way of praise. I think the most impressive thing about what I had just heard was the last part, when she admitted to trusting Jordan enough to let him be her guide. “And?” I finally prompted. 

“What do you mean, and?” she asked, sounding a bit annoyed. 

“You usually give me way too many details of everything,” I clarified. “I was just waiting for what happened next.” 

Hay shrugged, still wrapped around my neck. “Not a whole hell of a lot. It’s not like he got off on it or anything. We just went back to…other stuff.” She sighed. “So how about you?” she asked, bringing the questioning full circle. “You got details on the most sexually advanced thing I’ve ever done, so now I want to know how you fulfilled your end of the pact.” 

I realized she was still slightly irritated with me. “Wait, Hay,” I said. “I don’t want you to think that I was demeaning what you guys did. I know how important this was for you both. I wasn’t asking for more details because I was waiting for the story to ‘get better’ or anything.” 

She relaxed finally and sighed again, but this time, it sounded contented. “You’re not just saying that to avoid my question, are you?” 

I chuckled softly. “I meant it,” I insisted. “Deflecting your question was merely a byproduct of my honesty.” 

Hay unwrapped her arms but left her head where it was. We sat quietly for a moment and I thought, hopefully, that our little bonding moment meant that she had forgotten that I had left her dangling. I was wrong. “You never answered me,” she finally asserted. 

I grimaced, even though she couldn’t see it. “Well, we just took the next logical step.” 

Hay sat up. She sensed what I wasn’t saying, but that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to hear the words. “And what was that?” 

I shrugged at her again, this time raising my hands in a ‘what do you think?’ gesture. Haley sat up straighter, opening her eyes huge. “You had _sex_ with him?” 

She was speaking louder than necessary; I really didn’t need her parents overhearing this. “Shh!” I urged, for all the good it did. 

“Oh, my God,” she said, still at high volume, but then it was as if she suddenly realized how much her voice carried. She began near-whispering. “You and Jeff had sex,” she repeated. “I can’t believe it.” 

I wasn’t sure how, exactly, to respond to that. I figured it was just shock at hearing what happened, but I prickled anyway. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. 

Haley turned around on the bed so she was facing me. “Nothing, By,” she said hastily, realizing she’d hurt my feelings this time. “It’s not like I thought you’d be a virgin for the rest of time or anything.” She’d hit the source of my ire; my brothers and sisters had all acted as if my virginity was only lost because of a miracle sent from God himself. Hay put one hand on my knee and squeezed the bony part. “I guess,” she began, then paused to reconsider her words. “I guess I’m just envious of how _easy_ the whole process was for you. You come out and find yourself a boyfriend all at once, and less than a year later, you guys have sex like it’s no big deal.” 

I shook my head. “None of this has been easy, Hay,” I explained. “Coming out was difficult, especially for someone who has a reputation for being afraid of everything. And things with Jeff aren’t always sunshine and roses; we bicker a lot more than you’d think, especially for two people who have seen each other for one week in the past nine months.” She frowned at that statement, but didn’t ask for details…yet. “And I spent three months weighing the pros and cons of sex, alternating between being petrified at the idea, wanting to ‘just get it over with’ and wanting it to be absolutely perfect, before I made up my mind.” 

She seemed to digest that slowly over a moment or so. “Maybe ‘easy’ is the wrong word,” she amended. “Maybe you’ve just been very lucky in love.” 

_Lucky in love_. I liked the way that sounded, especially because I didn’t feel as if I’d been lucky in much else in my life…except having her as a friend. “Maybe you’re right.” 

Hay leaned in toward me. It’s a good thing we’re such good friends, because she seems to think my personal space is her personal space. “So?” she asked. 

“So what?” 

She squealed and smacked me playfully. “C’mon, By! Don’t leave a girl dangling! I need to hear about this.” 

It’s embarrassing that, even though I’d accomplished the feat, talking about sex still made me blush. “We were in his bedroom in California. No one else was home.” 

Hay was thrilled. “This is like reading a romance novel, only better,” she joked. I rolled my eyes. “Was there music playing?” she continued. 

I remembered a conversation we’d had back when the two of us were about 15 about appropriate soundtracks for ‘doing it’ for the first time. “Nope. It was absolutely quiet.” Hay beckoned for me to go on; had she been in a chair, she would have been on the edge of her seat. “I’m not going to give you a blow-by-blow play of what happened,” I finally told her as her face fell. “Pun horribly, horribly intended.” 

Hay snorted. “Okay,” she said, now only a little defeated. “I may not like it, but I can respect your decision. I just demand one detail and I’ll let everything go.” 

I swallowed hard. It’s always a little scary when she says that. Sometimes she’s joking; other times she serious, but I may or may not want to divulge that one detail. “What?” I asked suspiciously. 

“When the time finally came,” Hay asked quietly, “which was it? Were you scared, did you want to get it over with, or was it perfect?” 

I grinned; that was a fair enough question. “Well, it wasn’t perfect,” I replied, “but it was about as close as it’s possible to be.” 

She snuggled back next to me. “I hope to say the same thing someday.” 

*** 

Being back in Hay’s bedroom, just the two of us, with the door closed, felt like being back at home. I’d been so busy off at school that I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her, with her unique style of discourse, or our gossip-less gossip sessions. We stayed in her room for hours. I helped her finish cleaning as she related everything that had happened to her over the past four months that we’d been separated. Don’t get me wrong—she didn’t just talk about herself. We talked about Duke and my friends and classes as well. But through the whole conversation, I kept having this feeling that she was avoiding certain topics. I didn’t prod or pry, because you’re liable to get a mouthful of fury if you do that to her. 

We were discussing the introduction to sociology class that I had absolutely adored—just another sign that I’d picked the right major this time—when Hay jumped upon the _other_ topic I’d been putting off discussing with her. “So this term, you were taking psychology, sociology, human growth and development and Eastern civilization…and what else?” she listed. 

I repeated the litany in my head. “Comparative religions.” 

“You can actually take a whole class in that?” Hay marveled. I nodded; for a borderline-agnostic who wasn’t sure what the hell he really believed, that class had been _amazing_. “Wow, college is awesome. I can’t wait.” 

That reminded me so much of what Claire had said the night before. “You’ve only got three more months to hold out,” I teased. “Think you can make it?” 

“I guess,” she sighed, with an over-exaggerated pout. “I do have to ask, though. What kind of degree is this all leading to, in the end? What do you do with religion and human growth?” 

“Sociology, Hay. It all comes down to a sociology major.” 

“Sociology,” Haley repeated. She was dusting her dresser, moving in time to some music she was playing at a much more acceptable level, a song I didn’t recognize this time. “Hey, that’s a social science, like anthropology! You and I can be social scientists together!” 

I chuckled. “I’m hoping to be more of a social services professional,” I insisted. Hay stopped dancing, her face blank. I’d lost her. “A social worker, Hay. I want to be a social worker.” 

Hay thought about that for a moment before a grin broke out across her face. “Yes,” she said in a hushed tone, more to herself than to me. “That’s a good idea. A social worker! You’d make a great social worker.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I told her drily. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied as if I’d been serious. I rolled my eyes. “So where are you headed to fulfill your social worker dreams? I know you’re not going back to Duke, because that’s why you came home by mommy-mobile instead of on a plane like your brothers.” 

I’d been looking forward to this moment about as much as I’d been looking forward to talking sex with her. I wasn’t just going to California for school; I was _moving_ there. Jeff’s dad had agreed to let me use his address for my ‘permanent’ address, meaning that, by my junior year, I could get in-state tuition. This was going to help my student loan-load tremendously. I’d been thinking about all that in my head after she asked, and I waited long enough that Hay started to get suspicious. “Byyyyy,” she groaned. “Spit it out, already! Waiting is not going to make it any easier. Just how far away from me are you going to be?” 

I got ready to calculate that when I realized I was missing a variable. “I don’t know,” I answered, confused. “Because you never told me where you’re going to school, either.” 

Hay wrinkled her brow. “Didn’t I?” she asked as she tried to remember. I shook my head. “Oh, well, I’m sorry. I’ll tell you here in a minute…as soon as you tell me.” 

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled. I tried to look away, at the screen saver dancing away on her computer monitor, but she wasn’t letting me get away with it. She simply sat down in her desk chair and rolled up so that she was right in front of my face. I’d have to twist my whole body around in order to sever eye contact. I don’t know why I bother trying to get away with that with her. “University of California, Hay. The Berkeley campus.” 

“Berkeley?” she repeated, and unlike most of my relatives, she didn’t sound surprised or unhappy; instead she just appeared to be mulling it over. “That’s supposed to be a great school. And isn’t it right outside of San Francisco? I think a couple of victims of the Zodiac Killer were Berkeley students. I’m reading a book about serial killers right now.” 

I wasn’t sure how to feel: relief over the fact that she seemed thrilled at my new school, or concerned that she was reading a book about grisly murders. “Since when do you read true crime books?” I asked. It didn’t sound like something Jordan or any of her high school friends would have gotten her interested in. 

“Since I discovered how awesome they are,” Hay replied dismissively. I inspected her closely, because to be honest, the ‘life is dark and desolate’ theme of some of those books fit right in to the angry, private Hay that I was trying to uncover. She turned the topic away from her issues to me. “That’s so great, By. When I come to visit you, you’ll have to show me all the sights. I’ve never been to California before.” 

I shook my head. “You plan to visit me?” 

“Of course. You don’t think your BFF can just let you drop out of her life, do you?” She was taking this all much better than I’d expected. Of course, I hadn’t told her that I wasn’t planning to come back to Connecticut for any more summer vacations after this year. “This explains so much,” she continued. “Like why Jeff was comparing and contrasting San Francisco State University and University of San Francisco.” 

“Was he?” I asked. 

“You didn’t know?” she asked, trying not to look—or sound—like she’d let the cat out of the bag. 

“No, I didn’t know,” I informed her, but I wasn’t surprised by the news. The two of us had never discussed where Jeff was going when he finished at the community college. I wouldn’t have been upset if Jeff had decided to stay in L.A. to finish his degree, or even head out of state. But I was pleased to hear he wanted to head to the San Francisco area instead. “I don’t think he was keeping it a secret, though, so you’re off the hook.” 

She visibly relaxed. “That’s great,” she said, and I assumed she was talking about the fact that she wasn’t about to cause an argument between Jeff and me…until she went on. “You’ll be able to spend so much more time together…it’ll be great for you to be in the same state.” 

I was all ready to enthuse about our opportunities—Jeff was already arranging his work and class schedule for the next semester so that he could spend some weekends in Berkeley—but then I saw Hay’s face. She sat down on top of her freshly-dusted dresser, her toes dangling a couple feet off the floor. She was biting her lower lip, and I realized she wasn’t just talking about me. “Okay, Hay,” I said, and she shifted her eyes—and her lip—so that she had a completely blank expression. Either she was headed as far away from Jordan as possible, or… “University of Florida, right?” 

“Right,” she said, and I realized that the responses to her choice of schools had been similar to, and maybe even worse than, mine. Her parents must have flipped out when they heard. Haley was their baby, their little girl, and her family members were really close. Not only was she heading hours away from home, but she was following a boy. That couldn’t have gone over well. “You know me,” Hay said, putting on a lofty tone, covering her real feelings with a faux coyness. “I’m cold blooded. Florida is sunshine and warm temperatures, By. And they have a great anthropology program, which is what put them on my radar in the first place.” 

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Hay.” I understood completely. I knew she didn’t just decide to go to UF because that’s where Jordan went to school. It must have been a consideration, to be sure, but she’s a logical person. If Jordan went to Eastern Podunk State and the nearest anthropology program was hundreds of miles away, then she wouldn’t have ever considered going there. “First because I understand you and your college selection process, and second because I have a feeling that everyone else has already harped on you enough.” 

She let the mask slip off and relief shone through. Hay’s shoulders slumped in a relaxed manner, and then she pushed off the dresser to join me on the bed. I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she sat behind me, pressed up against my back. I leaned on her gently. “Anthropology,” I said slowly, mimicking the way she’d said _sociology_ earlier. “So what are you going to do with an anthropology degree? Don’t you need to get a Ph.D. to really get anywhere as a scientist?” 

Hay tipped her head to one side. “Promise not to tell anyone?” she said. I nodded, and even though she couldn’t see me, she knew. “I want to go to law school, maybe become a victim’s advocate. It would have been nice if someone had told me, back in the day, that there wasn’t anything shameful in what happened to me.” 

“For that to have happened,” I thought out loud, “you’d have had to have told someone what happened to you. Gone to the hospital or the police right away. Told your parents.” 

I waited for her to get upset at that statement. No girl, especially not Hay, wants some guy telling her what she did wrong in her past…even if that guy is her best friend. I’d spoken before I’d really thought about what I was saying; hurting her feelings wasn’t going to be intentional. As it was, it didn’t even happen. “I know,” she acknowledged. “I’ve apparently got a lot of guilt and anger kicking around in my system, and most of that is directed at my own self.” 

“Apparently,” I repeated. I was wondering about her turn of phrase. She’d said it half mockingly and half disbelievingly. If she didn’t believe it, then where was it coming from? “I don’t know how many times I can tell you that what happened wasn’t your fault, Hay. So why are you feeling guilt or anger about it?” 

“It’s apparently completely normal,” she replied, the pitch of her voice rising. There was that ‘apparently’ again. I turned over my shoulder, trying to look at her, but all I could see was the curve of her profile. I did see she’d set her jaw on a hard angle; I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn she was grinding her teeth. “I’m apparently going through a mourning process. I’m grieving the death of who I used to be.” 

I scooted around to her other side. Hay furrowed her brow at the movement. “That makes sense,” I mused. I’d once read about the grieving process; one part was denial, and Hay’d spent about three years doing _that_. “I feel like I do that sometimes too, even though I voluntarily changed who I was and I like ‘new me’ so much better.” 

“And you don’t even have PTSD,” she mumbled. 

“What?” 

“PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder?” Haley explained. “Like soldiers who have been at war.” 

“And you do have this PTSD?” I queried. 

She sighed. “That’s what my therapist says, anyway.” 

Okay. Now this was all making sense: the anger, the lack of belief in what she was saying. Hay put her head down on her knees for a moment as I sorted everything out in my head. “I thought seeing someone would help,” she continued, turning her big brown eyes at me. There were tears starting to form in the corners, although her voice didn’t belie them at all. “But it’s made it harder for me to sleep, and I either spend my time crying or wanting to smash something.” 

“I’m no expert, but I think that’s a good sign,” I said. I put my arm around her, side by side, and she put her head on my shoulder. “You have to find the emotions before you can deal with them.” 

Hay cried into my shirt collar for a few minutes, then sat up straight. Her eyeliner and mascara left a brown streak on my yellow collar and I frowned at it for a second before she spoke again. “Remember this time last year, when you complained about Mallory psycho-babbling you when she’d only had one psychology class? Maybe you need to take your own advice.” 

“Okay, okay,” I conceded, holding up my hand in a sign of surrender. “All I really meant, Hay, is that I think that you should stick with the therapy. Give it a chance.” 

She turned her raccoon eyes toward me, puckering her lips for a moment, but then sighed instead of criticizing. “That’s what my therapist says, too. I can’t expect results overnight. But I will tell you one thing: if I keep up with the therapy, I’m going to need to find a good waterproof mascara.”

*** 

I stayed for dinner that night, partly because it was tradition and partly because Hay was like an emotional train wreck. After her admission that she was in therapy, I’d tried to find non-offensive topics of conversation, but I kept stepping on mines in her personal mine field. She never actually seemed angry or frustrated with _me_ , but I felt guilty nonetheless. 

Hay wound up crashing on her bed, still clothed, at about eight-thirty. By then, she’d cried at least half a dozen times and shouted twice that much. I couldn’t blame her for drifting off into sleep, because I was exhausted myself. I trudged back down the stairs, thinking about going home and climbing into my own bed. I had a long day ahead of me tomorrow: first, my first shift in the Kitchen & Bath cookware department; second, I had to rush to the airport to pick Jeff up. I was nervous about the first, but definitely not about the second. 

I sat down on the bottom stair at the Braddocks’ with my shoes. The lights were off on the ground floor; Matt had been up in his room all night—according to Hay, he was corresponding with a girl in Portugal on IM. I could hear the television in the basement playing what sounded like an old-fashioned movie. I had just stood up to leave when a hand clamped down on my shoulder, making me jump. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Mr. Braddock said quietly. 

I shook off the spooky feeling the gentle movement had given me. “It’s okay,” I told him. Mr. Braddock tended to be quiet—both a man of few words and soft-spoken. While Hay and her mother sometimes bickered, she didn’t dare argue with her father. If he spoke up, he was laying down the law, but he rarely spoke up. “I guess I just thought I was alone.” 

He nodded. “Lot of noise coming out of my daughter’s room tonight,” he commented. I nodded, not sure what he meant. “Haley’s always been one for strong emotions, but everything seems to be coming to a head right now. Her mother and I, well, we don’t know what is bothering her, so she won’t talk to us. She puts on a tight-lipped smile and pretends that she never came home one day, demanded to see a professional and then went straight off to bed…at four p.m. She snaps at us over every perceived violation and seems like she’s always about to break down, either crying or screaming.” Mr. Braddock sighed, looking much older than he really was. “Do you know what is bothering her?” 

“Sort of,” I admitted. “I’m not aware what the catalyst was that day, but I do know at least one major topic she’s talking about with her psychologist.” 

“And you can’t tell me what it is, because it breaks the teenager code,” he completed my thought. I nodded again. “I don’t expect you to break my daughter’s trust in you, Byron. Heaven knows she trusts so few people to begin with. If it weren’t for you, I don’t think Haley would be here today. She wouldn’t have made it through the past four years. All I’m asking is for you to keep your eyes and ears open. If you think things are spinning too far out of her control, let me—or someone else—know, okay?” 

“I’m already doing that,” I assured him. 

“Good, good,” Mr. B. said, almost absentmindedly. “I asked Jordan for the same favor the other day. Between the two of you, I know she’s in good hands.” 

We said our goodbyes and I walked home. It was chilly for mid-May, doing that spring thing where it’s sunny and warm during the day but cold as can be after dark. I got home to find that there was as much noise brewing in the Pike house as there had been in Haley’s bedroom. “What’s going on?” I asked the first person I found, who happened to be Jordan, sitting at the piano in the living room, not playing anything. I got the feeling he’d just finished. 

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “All I can tell you for certain is that Margo thinks Claire is a liar and that Claire thinks Margo is a hypocrite.” 

I sighed. This sounded like just another extension of the same fight the two of them had been having for years. Different catalysts, same argument. “You know what we need?” I said as Jordan shut the cover over the piano keys. 

“A good stiff drink?” 

“Who do I look like, Adam?” I quipped. “No, I was thinking of earplugs.” 

Jordan grinned. “Way ahead of you. I use earbuds when I’m awake and a pillow over my head when I’m asleep. Works for all variety of noises: snoring roommates, drunken neighbors and screaming sisters.” I smirked along with him. “I thought Margo had a date tonight.” 

“She did.” 

“That good, huh?” 

“Sure sounds like it.” Jordan sat down on the couch and absently patted the cushion next to him. I got the message and sat down. “How was Haley tonight?” he asked. 

I shook my head. “Oh, no,” I told him. “I’m not getting between you two, remember? I’d say you should call her yourself and ask her that, but she’s already down for the night.” 

Jordan, who had been acting silly all weekend, was serious now. “Did she cry herself to sleep again?” he asked. “That’s what she did Friday night. I held her as she cried, but she wound up falling asleep on my shoulder. I tucked her in and just watched her sleep for a while before I left.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “You two were up in her bedroom?” 

Jordan tried to smile again, but, like Hay’s dad, he looked a lot older—and more tired—than he should at that moment. “A lot’s changed at Haley’s house. Her parents let us go in her room with the door shut, no questions asked. They say a lot of stuff like, ‘You’re an adult now, so we respect your choices.’” He furrowed his brow. “I really think her mom is convinced that a lot more’s going on between the two of us than actually is. Not that I don’t appreciate the privacy. Maybe after Haley stops being so angry with the world, we can take advantage of it.” 

“Not the world,” I corrected. “She said tonight that she’s angry at herself.” 

Jordan’s reaction was similar to my own. “What reason does she have to be angry with herself?” 

I thought about that for a second. “I think—and I’m moving into a realm of pure speculation here—she’s mad at the choices she made four years ago. You ever take a self-defense course?” He shook his head. “The first thing they teach you is to avoid situations where bad things are likely to happen. Don’t take that dark shortcut alone after dark, stuff like that. So I think she’s regretting the fact that she agreed to go on that date, or that she agreed to mess around in the backseat. Or possibly, the fact that she didn’t tell her parents and things like that afterward.” 

The door to Vanessa’s bedroom opened. “You two are talking about Haley, aren’t you?” she asked. 

Jordan measured her up. “Yup,” he finally replied. “If I’m talking to Byron and it’s not about college, we’re probably discussing Haley.” 

Normally, I would have smiled at that surprisingly-accurate generalization, but I really didn’t have the energy. “What is with her?” Vanessa asked. I was surprised she wanted my take on things—for the most part, she was the one among my younger siblings who really didn’t do that—but then I realized she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Jordan as she sat down in the computer chair and spun it around. “She’s been…well, _bitchy_ wouldn’t be a bad word to describe it…for the last week or so. And before that, the whole school was talking about her getting raped. It was, like, the gossip of the day for the entire month of April.” 

Jordan grimaced, but he didn’t really seem surprised by that news. For me, it was just another piece of the puzzle, but several were still missing. “How did everyone find out?” I asked, more to myself than to the group. 

“Dunno,” Vanessa replied. “There are rumors, but I’m keeping them to myself, because they’re just that. Haley won’t confirm or deny them. She changes the topic if you bring it up, so I just backed the hell off of her. I’m not stupid.” She spun the chair again and I marveled at the juxtaposition of talking about such adult topics while spinning in her seat like a five year old. “Do you know what’s going on?” she asked Jordan. 

He shrugged. His eyebrows were knitted together and I knew he was really upset over the topic. You could feel the anger and frustration radiating off of him. He wanted to take Haley’s problems and fix them for her, and he just couldn’t do it. “A little,” he admitted. “But not how the whole school found out.” 

Vanessa accepted that without asking for the obvious, the piece I was dying to know. “If you hear anything that you think I need to know—either one of you—help a sister out, okay?” With that she headed back into her bedroom and turned her music on. 

I watched her go. “When did she grow up?” I asked. Jordan’s expression changed for the first time since I’d sat down. “There was a time when we would _not_ have been able to get rid of her without tying her up somewhere and leaving her behind. And it’s not like her to not share, or beg to hear, gossip.” 

Jordan didn’t answer that. “Listen,” he said quietly. I leaned in closer to hear him better. “Let me tell you what I know.” 

“I won’t ask you to do that,” I insisted. 

“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I’m actually willing to do it. That and because that’s one less person who _should_ know what’s going on that she doesn’t have to tell.” I nodded in understanding. “She had a run-in with the guy, the one who—” 

Jordan stopped abruptly. Did he have a hard time saying it out loud, same as Hay did? “The guy,” I repeated, letting him off the hook. “No wonder everything’s been dragged back up.” 

“Right,” Jordan sighed. I gave him a gentle punch to the shoulder, letting him know I felt exactly the same way he did. He looked over at me and smiled tentatively. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked. “I was exhausted when I came home Friday. It takes a lot of energy to deal with Hurricane Haley these days.” 

I held back a grin. “Hurricane Haley!” I exclaimed. “I like that. I’m going to have to use that one.” 

Jordan attempted to glare at me, but he couldn’t help the corners of his mouth turning up. “Do _not_ tell her I said that.” 

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I would tell her, except I don’t want to be party to the emasculation that would most certainly follow.” 

*** 

I had to get up fairly early the next morning. Part of the deal with my brothers was that, if I wanted to take the car for the day, I had to drop them off at work in the morning. Both Adam and Jordan had gotten jobs mowing lawns for the city; they were responsible for the parks and the sides of the roads in a few of the less-populated parts of town. It was actually a nice job, because although the work was very physical and the pay was pretty pathetic, it was Monday through Friday during the day. In any case, the two of them hadn’t minded letting me have the car for the day, but they were really hoping to find someone to give them a ride home so that their mommy didn’t have to come get them on their first day of work. Given Adam’s propensity for making friends with just about every person he met, I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. 

After I dropped them off I headed off to one of my least-favorite retail establishments: Kitchen  & Bath. I wouldn’t have taken them up on their offer for another summer of picky customers and gossipy coworkers if it weren’t for one reason: Hay. With it being my last summer in Stoneybrook, I wanted to stick as close by her as I could. 

I spent my entire eight-hour shift in the backroom, being trained by the kitchen manager in the intricacies of selling cookware. (I can now tell a tri-ply from a hard anodized, and it has served exactly no purpose in the rest of my life.) I’d been hoping they’d put me back on the front end, especially now that Haley was helping run it, but I was told that the only two openings were either in cookware or personal care, which consisted of selling body lotions and implements. I decided that cookware was less stereotypically-gay, even though probably the only person who would have made fun of me for working in personal care would have been me. 

Hay came in right as I was finishing up a cookware test (yes! Kitchen & Bath reminded me of high school for so many reasons, not the least of which was the ridiculous tests and quizzes that had no relationship to the realities of the job.) I was circling the correct answers to the questions and didn’t notice her until she stood right behind me and said, “Put C for every answer. Gets the test over with in five minutes.” 

I smiled as I looked up; she’d seen that on a television show once and it had become her go-to strategy when she didn’t know the answer on a multiple-choice test. “Feeling better today?” I asked her as she sat down in the seat beside me and looked over my test. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, twirling some hair around her finger. Now that her hair was loose, I could see just how long it had grown. For someone who’d once said that long, girly hair was a nuisance—referring at the time to _my_ hair—it sure looked like she’d changed her mind. 

I looked at Hay’s face carefully and then my own expression softened. She clearly didn’t want to talk about anything from yesterday; that was our secret. “Aren’t you a little early?” I asked instead, checking my watch. Her shift didn’t start for another half an hour. 

“I wanted to make sure I caught you. I told Shari you needed to get to the airport in Hartford tonight to pick up your sweetie, so she said that as soon as you’re done with this you can go ahead and clock out.” 

Shari had also told me the same thing some-forty minutes before, though I’d just assumed that she was trying to cut hours. “Anything you want me to say to Jeff on the car ride back to town?” 

She shrugged. “Nope. I figure I’ll see him soon enough, right? You’re not going to hog him completely this summer, are you?” 

I smiled, amused. “Nope,” I echoed. 

“Good. I’m assuming I’ll have better luck getting sex details out of him than I did out of you.” 

I shoved her with my shoulder, but I was secretly pleased. She sounded more like her regular self today. 

*** 

I left work about five minutes later, the moment I’d been waiting for coming up in only a couple of hours. Even counting for rush hour traffic, I was probably going to be ridiculously early. I eased along the highway, comfortably driving just under the speed limit, with no one to chastise me for not going the speed of traffic. I found a radio station that had sprouted up in the past year and was surprised to realize I knew most of the song lyrics. With no one else in the car, I felt comfortable singing along at the top of my lungs, something I never would have done a year ago. I’m not sure that this was really an improvement for the world of noise pollution, but it was definitely an improvement for the world of Byron. 

Sure enough, I got to Hartford well before Jeff’s plane was scheduled to arrive (and even earlier than he’d be through baggage retrieval.) I decided to stop and eat a couple hamburgers at a fast food restaurant, even though I knew Jeff would be hungry and want to stop on the way home. We could sit down for a real dinner because the burgers would barely touch my hunger. 

Since I was so early, I went ahead and parked the car and went inside, finding a kind of excitement rising in my chest. I was more excited now that I’d even been in March for spring break. This wasn’t one week with Jeff; it was a whole summer. And then we’d be in the same state for the next whole school year, able to see each other far more often. This was one step closer to a real adult relationship. 

I found a railing near the baggage carousels and balanced precariously on it, opening a copy of a book Paul had recommended to me at my ‘last supper,’ saying he thought the social worker in me would appreciate it. I’d picked it up at the Books by the Ton bookstore in Stoneybrook Corners during my lunch break earlier that day. 

It had been a while since I’d really read for pleasure, since my course load the previous semester had been text-heavy. I put the book in my lap and hunched over, trying to maintain that posture as I read. By the end of the first chapter I was hooked; I began to scarcely notice how much time passed as I just read and read on. 

Thus I spent nearly the next hour, digging deeper and deeper into the work as I waited for the plane. I forgot I was actually sitting on a rail in an airport; instead I was transported to the world of the book, living and breathing the character. 

That’s what I was still doing when I heard, rather than saw, someone standing in front of me. “Remember last year when Haley said that your native habitat was the deli aisle at the grocery store?” Jeff said in greeting. I looked up from the book, marking my page by folding it over as I did so, to see him smiling broadly, his face even tanner than it had been ten weeks earlier. He was wearing the same blue and green plaid shirt he had been last year when I first saw him, and it looked even better now than it had then. Back then, it had been worn by my crush; now it was worn by the man I loved. “She was wrong,” Jeff continued. “ _This_ is your real home.” 

“The Hartford airport?” I joked, even though he was completely serious. 

“No. Lost in a book.” 

“I’d prefer to be lost in your arms.” 

He took the hint and opened his arms wide. I fell into them, the book dropping to the ground. We just stood there next to my railing and fallen tome, wrapped in a hug. He kissed me there in front of the whole Hartford airport, and I realized he was right. 

I was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this worth the wait, people? I hope so, because right now, chapter 3 is about one page long. I know where it's going, but sometimes it just takes a while to get there, ya know?
> 
>  
> 
> Will this be the end of Byron and Company? Probably not. In fact, definitely not. I have what is either one half or one third of a follow-up story known as Twenty-one. I want it to be two chapters, but I think it will wind up being three simply because a) we have to have all three triplets!; b) we can't leave any birthdays out and c) I have the feeling that chapter two will leave people...dangling. Stay tuned.


	3. The Drama May End, but the Show Must Go on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff and I were back together, so everything should be perfect, right?
> 
> Yeah, right. This is the real world, not a fairy tale. But I guess I can't really complain, now that we're all together after a year separated.

It was that last long weekend of May, a warm, lightly cloudy Memorial Day morning. I would say it was very typical of the type of day when everyone is off from everything…or at least, it started that way. There was no school, and with it being a public holiday, Mom, Dad, my brothers and Vanessa all had the day off automatically. I, too, had managed to be lucky enough to not have to work, despite the fact that Kitchen & Bath stops for virtually no holiday. By the time I’d started back there, it had been too late to request the day off, so I’d just had to hold my breath and cross my fingers like a superstitious seven-year-old. I had a good reason for wanting the day off: Jeff’s family was having a barbeque.

Barbeques at the Spier household are always a little curious, given that a fair chunk of the family doesn’t eat much you would traditionally grill. But they had a lot to celebrate this time and wanted to invite a large group of people, and grilling’s the cheapest way to handle it. Jeff said it was supposed to be a combination ‘Welcome Back Jeff’ and ‘Congratulations Mary Anne and Pete’ party, but he’d seen that the emphasis swung over to his recent-college-graduate stepsister and her husband. He’d actually snippily called it the ‘congratulations on staying married almost two years while being in school’ party. While I felt like I’d slid right back into my place in the Pike family without much effort, Jeff was squirming being back at his mother and stepfather’s house. The rules there were the same as last summer, and he said he felt like a ten-year-old again living under his mother’s roof. I’d just had to shrug when he said that, because I knew everything would work out, but Jeff was so antsy—and, to be honest, a little manic—that I knew better than to try to soothe him. Over the past year, we’d learned how to deal with each other’s emotional quirks, and sometimes Jeff just needs to vent for a while before he can actually deal with whatever’s making him, in his words, “itchy.” 

One thing Jeff had said was that he completely understood why Mary Anne had gotten married before she was old enough to legally drink. She’d gone off to college and spent her weeks as she pleased and her weekends “shacking up” (again, Jeff’s words) with Pete at his place or at hers. Then she would come home for the summer and not even be allowed to be alone in her bedroom with Pete with the door open and their feet firmly on the floor. “It’s enough to drive a person crazy,” Jeff had said just the day before. 

It had also been enough to get a person—or two—scheming. Jeff had borrowed his mother’s car last night and we’d driven out to the middle of nowhere. I’d fully expected he’d pull over somewhere secluded—which he did—and then coax me into the back seat (which didn’t usually require much effort, to be honest). Instead, he got out of the car in the darkness of a random cow pasture far outside of town. Without waiting for me or telling me where he was going, he walked over to the fence. Some cows stood a few feet away, laconically chewing their cud or whatever it is that cows do, watching him with big brown eyes. Jeff put his hands on a fence post after checking carefully for barbed or electric wire and then let out a long, wordless scream that seemed to last forever. It even seemed to echo in the silent, surprisingly-warm Connecticut dusk, but I was instantly reminded of him losing control in Maine. That day seemed to live on and on in my mind. 

I waited for Jeff to stop shouting, leaning against the car a short distance away. This was partly designed to give him space and partly to protect my ear drums. Finally he slumped over his post, leaning his forehead against it and I still watched without a sound, just waiting. When Jeff finally turned around to look at me, I don’t know what he saw, but the combination of screaming his lungs out and my facial expression seemed to bring him back to peace. “I have got to get the fuck out of that house,” he said, still hugging the fence post. 

I hitched my thumbs in the pockets of my khakis; it was my way of shrugging without actually shrugging. I didn’t want Jeff to think I didn’t understand or didn’t care how he felt, but I knew he was still mostly just venting. “How’s your mom?” I asked. 

Jeff actually did shrug, which looked really weird with a pole pressed against his cheek and one shoulder. “She’s fine,” he replied dismissively. “So’s Richard, too, to be honest about it. I just…I feel like they haven’t accepted I’m grown up yet.” I knew how to respond to that: I nodded sympathetically. Wasn’t that what I was going through with my mom, too? What every eighteen and nineteen year old goes through with their parents to some extent? “Like Friday night. I’d just finished my first week at the UPS in Stamford and some of my new coworkers asked me to come hang out with them for the evening to get to know me better.” I already knew this; Jeff had called me when I’d gotten home from work the night before to rant on this exact topic. “So I called my mom and let her know I’d be home later and that I didn’t need a ride. But even though she _says_ I don’t have a curfew, she called me about every fifteen minutes for the rest of the night until I shut my phone off. And then when I finally got home, Richard chewed me out for being disrespectful and threatened to take my phone away. My dad pays for that phone; Richard’s got no right.” 

I just continued nodding through all of that. This was no time for pointing out logic, like how he should have told his mother what time he expected to be home or that he was just asking for trouble by turning off his phone when his mother was constantly on his ass. Those things were both true, but Jeff wasn’t ready to hear them. I had noticed during many, many conversations of listening to him rant and rave that Jeff had plenty of common sense, but it turned off when his emotions went into overdrive…which was often. In a few days, I wouldn’t have to tell him any of this because he’d have figured it out himself. He’d apologize and he and his mom and Richard would move on as if it had never happened. 

“Give them some time,” I finally said when Jeff stopped retelling the story. “Meanwhile, let’s find something else to focus on,” I continued. 

“Yeah,” Jeff muttered as he let go of the fence post. There was a dent in his cheek where it had touched the post, and a smudge of what I _hoped_ was just dirt. “Like finding me an apartment to sublet.” 

I ignored the words if not the sentiment. “Well, why don’t we plan some activities that will get you out of the house? Remember when you told Richard I was going to pick you up after work? He just accepted it and didn’t blink, even though we didn’t come straight home and spent three hours at that stupid all-night diner.” I grimaced at the memory of the diner. I had finally found a food my stomach couldn’t handle: Thelma’s chili-cheese dogs. 

“Yeah,” Jeff replied lamely, but he joined me in leaning up against the hood of his mom’s squatty little silver Ford Focus, his thigh lightly touching mine. “I just want to get away for a little while. A night, maybe. I dunno.” 

A light wind blew and a slight chill went through me. Jeff saw me shiver once and bumped his butt a little closer to mine, our whole sides touching now. “You know what?” I asked as the breeze died back down and I warmed back up. “You should. _We_ should.” 

“We should what?” 

I turned to look him head on a little more. “Get away for a little while. Go on a little road trip, a cheap version of what we did for spring break. Kind of like how we spent the night in Berkeley.” 

Jeff looked thoughtful. “You really think we could get away?” he asked, almost hypothetically. 

“Why not?” I asked in reply. “There’s this little campground my parents used to take us to, sometimes, after we stopped going to Sea City every summer. It was run down then and I’m sure it’s worse now. But who cares? It would just be you and me, a tent, and…” 

“A shared sleeping bag,” Jeff finished, clearly warming up to the idea. He leaned toward me, both of his warm hands on my thigh. “I’d have to tell my mom…well, Richard, actually…that it was ‘the guys’ going so that he wouldn’t be judgmental but it’s technically true. I mean, we are both guys.” 

I grinned at him, less at the comment than at the fact that he was starting to settle down and let the fight with Richard go. At least for now. “Whatever you got to do,” I said. I was starting to understand the difference between lying and shading the truth and realizing I spent a lot of time doing the latter anyway. 

“What about you?” he asked. One hand was still on my thigh, while the other touched my lower back near the top of my pants. “Obviously your parents are going to know that Adam and Jordan aren’t going on our little…escapade,” he continued, and I could tell that he was proud of the word ‘escapade.’ 

I shrugged. “I think I’ll just tell them the truth,” I said. 

“The truth?” he repeated, as if the thought had never occurred to him. 

“Well, maybe not the whole truth,” I amended. “But I will tell them that you and I are planning to go camping for the weekend. They should be pretty cool.” 

That was what I thought at the time I made that statement. Jeff and I had stood there for more than an hour, and by the time we left he’d named all the cows and we’d written a little soap opera about their lives. He’d vowed to the cows that we’d come back and visit them later that summer if they hadn’t been turned into burgers yet. Jeff has quite the sense of humor when he’s not busy being angry over the littlest things. 

Back that Monday morning, I figured I’d give my mom a heads up to my plans. Jeff and I had tentatively set a weekend for our road trip, if everything came together the way we hoped it would. My siblings had started to scatter everywhere, as was normal for a weekend day at the Pike house. Vanessa and Margo had both disappeared with friends, invited to some kind of family outings. (Jeff had invited Vanessa to his picnic, but she was headed to P’s for the whole day.) Dad had undertaken a daunting task, at least in my mind: He’d taken Nick for a driving lesson. Nick was apparently an enthusiastic driver but slow to pick up the necessary skills. Both Mom and Dad had taken him for multiple lessons, but despite the fact that his seventeenth birthday was less than two months away, they had yet to take him out of neighborhood to experience ‘real’ driving. 

Jordan, meanwhile, had escaped to Hay’s for the morning, stating that it was quieter there. Really, though, I think he just wanted to check up on her. _Something_ had happened prom night—what, I didn’t know, as Hay wouldn’t talk about it and Jordan didn’t really know himself. The way he saw it, they’d been having a good time at a post prom party at Charlotte’s and then all of a sudden she’d wanted to go home, to the point that she’d teared up and sulked until Jordan was able to get ahold of her father on her cell phone. When they’d gotten back to the Braddocks’, she’d locked herself in her room and wouldn’t talk to anyone. Jordan had spent hours going over his actions, agonizing over the fact that he might have done something to hurt her feelings. Eventually he’d come to the conclusion that something—whether it had been something he’d done or not, he wasn’t certain—had set off her extremely sensitive alert system. She’d been edgy ever since, even as she was insisting that nothing was bothering her. 

In any case, there were only a few Pikes home as I made plans to talk to Mom. Claire was around somewhere, hurriedly doing the homework she’d been putting off all weekend, and Adam had just gotten out of bed. As I sat at the kitchen table with Mom, he came in and started digging around in the cabinets. “Hey, Mom?” I started, attempting to get her attention away from the coffee she was drinking and magazine she was reading. 

Mom looked up. She had a pair of reading glasses on her nose and she looked at me over them, the same way I look at Haley over my glasses when she’s annoying me. “Hey, Byron?” she replied. 

“I just wanted to give you a heads up.” 

“Last time you said that,” Mom said, no longer looking annoyed but instead concerned, “You came out.” She put down both her newspaper and coffee. “What’s up?” 

“It’s nothing as serious as all that,” I told her, and I saw some of the tension go out of the corners of her eyes as she took off her reading glasses. “Jeff and I were planning to go camping in a couple of weeks. We’ll leave Friday night and come back Sunday.” 

“Sounds fine,” Mom said idly. She picked her coffee back up. “Who were you planning to go with?” She eyed Adam, who had finished digging and was now eating Cheerios, sitting on a counter in the corner. He was clearly listening, because he shrugged and shook his head, without stopping the spoon on its path to his mouth. 

Mom turned away from Adam and towards me. “We-ell,” I began, trying to figure out how lighthearted to make this sound. I wanted to act as if she had nothing to be concerned about, but I knew if I made it _too_ airy, Mom would be suspicious. “We thought we’d go by ourselves.” 

“Just the two of you?” Mom clarified. She set her coffee back down and was giving me her full attention. I wished she wasn’t. 

“Yup,” I said, looking down at my hands. I was getting the feeling this conversation wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. I would have been better off just waiting until the day of and saying, ‘Hey, heading out of town for the weekend. Be back Sunday night,’ and not leaving time for discussion. 

Mom set her elbows down on the table and leaned in toward me. “Byron, I’m concerned about that,” she said, lowering her voice as if Adam wasn’t just sitting across the room and couldn’t hear everything she said. She put her head into her hands, speaking even more quietly. “I won’t stop you, of course,” she continued, “But if you and Jeff are alone in a tent for the weekend, you might be tempted to give in to instinct…” 

Sometimes, parent logic is hard to follow. And sometimes, I just think I don’t want to hear what I’m hearing. “What?” I asked before all the pieces of what she’d said came together. 

Mom looked frustrated, as if I should be following her words more closely. “I just want to make sure you’re prepared for what might happen,” she said gamely. 

Something clicked into place for me. I was about to hear a whole lecture about why I should wait to have sex. That would have been highly uncomfortable even if it were actually an issue anymore. I weighed the options in my head, squirming over the possibility of having to hear about the ‘birds and the bees.’ I’d been lucky in that I’d managed to avoid having a sex talk with my parents. Let me amend that; Dad had sat all my brothers and me down when I was eleven or so and discussed the mechanics of sex—the ‘where do babies come from’ speech—although we’d all already pretty much known all of _that_. But as each of my siblings had started dating, they’d gotten the ‘respect your body’ speech, talking about the serious repercussions of sex. I hadn’t had to sit through one of those, and I’d attributed that to the fact that, by the time I’d actually started dating, my parents thought they’d already done it. I’d just been skipped in the mix of identical brothers. 

I leaned in a little closer to her but didn’t lower my voice. “Mom,” I said, getting her attention away from her planned talk, “If you’re talking about sex, that ship has already sailed.” 

I saw Adam’s response before Mom’s, but that’s just because his was a little more obvious: he nearly fell off the counter. By time I turned back to Mom, she’d schooled whatever expression she might have had in her shock. But she couldn’t hide the change in her voice. “Oh,” she stuttered, not having the exact words. Finally she managed to spit out some vague, rambling aphorisms. “Oh. Well…just, be careful. Make sure you’re being safe, okay?” She patted my shoulder absent-mindedly and got up, walking out of the room. 

Adam set his bowl down on the counter next to the gallon of milk he’d left out. “Whoa, dude,” he called across the room. His face held a combination of shock and worship. “I cannot believe you of all people just said that.” 

I grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table. “What are you talking about?” I asked, again trying to act like nothing was going on. 

“Holy shit,” Adam went on like I’d never spoken. He came over and sat beside me, grabbing my banana before I had a chance to even peel it and then looked over his shoulder toward the direction Mom had gone. “Maybe I should go check on her. She could be dying of a heart attack.” 

I snatched back my snack. “Very funny.” 

“Seriously, though,” Adam leaned against the table, clearly imitating Mom. “I never would have thought you’d have the balls for that.” 

“For what?” I said, sarcastic this time. “For telling the truth?” 

“Alright, alright.” He backed off, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender. He knew that if he kept teasing me, I was liable to go off in his face and that was the last thing he wanted at that moment. “Just know you’re my hero, because I didn’t have the guts to do that when I had the chance.” 

I growled lightly as I opened the banana and Adam scampered off, probably to preserve that memory in his head for all time. I found myself with something you don’t get very often in the Pike house: peace and quiet. I relaxed a little, but I feared what would happen when Mom got her wits back about her. 

I didn’t have too long to worry about it, because the silence was ruined less than five minutes later by the back door opening and then slamming shut again after a moment. “If we’re ever going to let you get your driver’s license, Nicholas, then you’re going to have to learn the difference between _gas_ and _brake_ ,” Dad bellowed half a second later, clearly continuing a lecture that had started sometime back. 

It went on for a while longer, too, but I purposely ignored it. There are some things that are bad enough when you’re going through them, but much worse when there are people visibly eavesdropping. After a few minutes Dad came barreling through the kitchen. “Where’s your mother?” he called absentmindedly toward me. 

Oh, shit. Dad was clearly in a mood, and if Mom was upset about what I’d just told her, then I really needed to get the hell out of the house. I decided to clean the kitchen and then find something to do for the next couple hours until Jeff’s party. I was just starting the dishwasher when Nick slunk out of the mud room. I’d forgotten he hadn’t followed Dad until just then. “Hey,” I called in his direction from the fridge, “Want something to eat while I’m in here?” 

Nick looked at me over the fridge door and I could see it in his eyes: he knew I’d heard everything. (Jordan and Haley next door had probably heard everything, though.) His shoulders slumped and he looked ready to decline, but instead he went over to the cabinet and pulled out a giant bag of potato chips. “Any French onion dip in there?” he asked. 

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Margo is obsessed with French onion dip; she makes a new batch about every 48 hours. I’m surprised she doesn’t weigh 300 pounds by now. 

I brought the dip over to the table and sat down with it. Nick took the container from me and opened it as if it took way more effort than a Tupperware usually requires. We each grabbed a chip and a small amount of dip. Nick swirled his around in the dip for a while before he ate it, but then he started speaking like I’d been waiting for him to spill his guts. “Dad seems to think I’m screwing up the pedals in the car on purpose,” he said, viciously grabbing a handful of chips and crunching them up as he did so, “but I’m really not. I think I’m just a real fuck up at driving.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him, even though I knew that was next to impossible for him. Or anyone else in his position. “One day, it’ll all click into place for you, I promise. Did you know Adam flunked his driving test the first time? He was so embarrassed, but by the time he went back a couple weeks later, he had it.” 

Nick acknowledged that with one raised shoulder. “Whatever,” he said, still sounding upset. 

I had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Hey, why don’t you help me?” I asked him. “I need to make a list of what I need to bring with me to Berkeley and what I want to buy once I get there, so that I can start saving. And figuring out how things are going to make it from one side of the country to the other.” Nick didn’t look impressed with the distraction. “Look, it’s either this or listen to Dad. And you know how he is when he’s in that mood.” 

“Okay,” he conceded. I ran up to our room and pulled out a notebook that I’d stuffed full of information, and the two of us spread it out across the table, careful to avoid the dip we were still munching. 

We were still sitting there ten minutes later, a rough list of items I had to bring from home etched out in one column, when Claire came up the stairs from the basement. This surprised me, because I had thought she was at her desk. “What are you two doing?” she asked. 

“What are _you_ doing?” I countered. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your homework right now?” 

“I finished that Friday at school,” she answered flippantly. “But if I tell Mom that, then she expects me to do something…like chores or hanging out with her and Dad. Instead, I wait until I’m so tired of the rest of the family that I want to scream, and then I go upstairs ‘to work on my overdue homework.’” 

“That’s actually pretty clever,” Nick acknowledged, and I nodded my agreement. Everyone in the family had, at one point or another, said they were going to the library to get away from some family event. I was probably the only one among my siblings who actually went to the library after I’d said that, though. 

I gestured to the papers spread over the table. “Nick’s helping me decide what to buy now and what to buy when I get to California. I have to bring my laptop, my bike and my clothes, but other than that, I think I can buy just about everything once I get there.” 

Claire sighed and put her head down on her hands. “I can’t believe you’re going all the way to California,” she mumbled. I raised my eyebrows; she was the last of my siblings I expected that out of. Most of the time, she liked it better when there were fewer of us in the house. “I’ve got to stay in this house for four more years,” she continued, and everything made sense. 

“The offer to come visit me still stands,” I piped up, “as long as you can behave like an adult. Some of my roommates are a little less…conventional…than you’re used to.” 

Claire sat back up straight, and I had Nick’s attention as well. “Do tell,” he said. 

“Well, umm,” I sputtered for a moment. I’d been thinking about Charlie, the roommate with whom I’d been in contact most, who’d been born Cassie. It wasn’t that I thought my siblings wouldn’t be accepting so much as I thought Charlie’s business was his alone. “Most of them have multiple tattoos and Rodney’s got at least ten piercings in various places in his face.” 

Nick and Claire accepted that at face value without questioning my hesitancy. My sister looked over the papers I had all over the place. “What are you doing for furniture?” she asked, turning the attention back to the task at hand. 

“I figure I need a bed, a desk, a dresser and a bookcase or two. Those are the types of things I could pick up at a thrift store as finances allow.” 

“You’d really sleep on a thrift store bed?” Nick asked, sounding disgusted. 

I thought about that. “A thrift store bed frame, sure, but you’re right. I’d have to buy a new mattress eventually. I’ll just sleep on a sleeping bag until then.” 

Claire was rifling through all the papers, messing up my piles. I had a list of thrift stores and resale shops in one pile, plus a bunch of print outs from various websites listing what you should have for your first apartment. “Why not just take the bed you already have?” she asked. 

It took all my power not to straighten the papers back out. Sometimes I fear I have OCD. “It’s a twin sized bed,” I pointed out. “I’d really like a bigger mattress for my new bedroom.” 

Claire was still pawing my stuff, but now she was flipping pages in the notebook. “Why?” she asked. 

Nick looked up from the list he was scribbling on another paper. “Oh, Claire,” he said with a shake of his head. “Really?” 

Claire looked from Nick to me and back to Nick. “Oh,” she finally said as she put two and two together. “Right.” 

I put my head in my hands. “Anyway, what size bed do you think I should get? The bigger I go, the more expensive _everything_ becomes: sheets, mattress pads and of course, the mattress itself.” Nick and Claire looked at each other and both began to smile. I saw the look on their faces and knew what was going to happen. “No jokes about queen sized beds!” I insisted. 

Claire picked up the notebook and something fell out. “What’s this?” she asked, grabbing the item. 

I looked at the necklace, which was a sand dollar on a ribbon. “I’d wondered where I put that.” 

“Ooh,” Claire teased, holding it up higher so Nick could see it. “Don’t tell Jeff, but Byron’s got himself a girlfriend on the side.” 

“Actually, Claire,” I replied, not looking up from the piles of paper I was finally reorganizing. “That’s for you. I told you I’d bring you something back from North Carolina.” 

Claire stopped displaying the jewelry and just started staring at it. “I thought you’d forgotten,” she absently commented as she gently touched the sand dollar. 

“Forget you? Never.” She was at a loss for words, and I relished the moment. I happened to know that neither Adam nor Jordan had brought her anything, despite the promises they’d made, but the look of thanks on her face was enough to make me not want to gloat about it. “I’ll bring you back something from Berkeley when I come to visit next summer.” 

Before Claire could regain her composure, Mom popped her head into the room. “Byron?” she asked, not making eye contact. “May I talk with you for a moment?” 

I paused for a moment, then decided not to prolong the inevitable. “I’ll be there in a second, Mom. Let me just clean up.” 

Nick read enough of our body language to know that something was up. “Don’t worry about it,” he told me. “I’ll put away the chips, and I’ll make sure this all ends up back in your notebook. I won’t even let Claire mess up the piles,” he added; obviously he was as aware of my need for organization as I was. 

I followed Mom into the living room and then out the front door. She sat down on the front stoop, and, not knowing how upset she was, I hovered near the door, suddenly feeling slouchy and nervous. It was as if the last year had never happened; I was that same boy I was last July when Dad gave me a lecture for falling asleep at Jeff’s. I had a feeling I was going to hear another lecture…until Mom spoke her single word. “Sit.” 

She’d patted the stoop next to her, and I knew there was no way she was going to yell at me if she wanted me to be that close to her. When she’s annoyed, she tries to get as far away from us as possible while still in the same room. I followed the instruction and then began to speak. “I’m sorry—” I started, but she cut me off. 

“Nope. It’s not your turn to talk,” Mom said. The words were brusque but her tone wasn’t. She sounded more sad than anything else. “I want to apologize to you instead. You didn’t really say anything inappropriate earlier. I may not have liked what you said…or how you said it…but you had the right to say what you did, and, believe it or not, I appreciate your honesty.” 

I nodded slowly at that. It was weird for the two of us to be sitting there together like this. Even though Mom had just apologized to me, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop…right on my head. “Okay,” I commented, just to say something. 

“The reason I got up and left isn’t because I was mad at you. I actually just didn’t even know how to respond. You shifted the balance of our relationship with that one little statement.” 

I turned to look at her, genuinely curious. “What do you mean?” 

Mom looked down the street. One of our neighbors has two kids, ages four and five, and the two of them were in their front yard, blowing bubbles. The littler one—the boy—blew a giant monstrosity of a bubble and the two of them watched in awe as it bobbed around and finally crashed in the grass. I wasn’t sure if Mom was seeing the giant bubble or her past. “When you said that, you stopped being my son who just happens to be an adult and started being my adult son. There’s a difference, you know. There are some nineteen-year-olds whose parents are constantly bailing them out, either literally or figuratively. 

“Then there you are. You don’t seem to need me much anymore in a Mommy mode, to tie your shoes or wipe your nose or whatever. I should be grateful about that, but it’s a hard change for me to make.” Mom pushed some hair out of her face with one hand and I saw exactly where I got that gesture from. 

“I’ll always need you,” I told her, mostly because I knew that was what she needed to hear. 

“Of course you will, but it won’t ever be the same again.” She put one arm around me and gave me a brief hug. “Now we’ll be two adults talking about life and discussing things, instead of a mother telling her son what to do.” 

I nodded my understanding and she patted my knee. “Now that we’re both on the same page, I do have adult-to-adult style advice for you,” Mom continued, lowering her voice. “Are you up for it?” 

I nodded again, feeling my mouth go dry. What kind of advice could she possibly have for me? Was it going to be the ‘live your life and be happy’ type of stuff she’d said when I’d graduated high school? “Okay,” I croaked, my voice suddenly hoarse. 

“If you’re sexually active, you’ve got to be responsible and mature. I’m not just talking about respecting yourself and your partner. You’ve never had a problem with either part of that that I could see.” She shifted so that she was facing me as much as possible while still sitting next to me. “I’m talking about things like getting tested for diseases. Has Jeff been with other men before you?” 

I hadn’t expected that direction, but there was no getting out of it now. “A girl,” I corrected. “He was with one girl.” Mom was surprised; her reaction was much like that I would get when some people found out I was gay. I laughed more out of nervousness than actual amusement. “Jeff’s bi, Mom.” 

“Oh,” Mom said, recovering quickly. She shook herself briefly, getting away from thoughts of Jeff’s preferences and back to her ‘advice.’ “The two of you should go and get tested for diseases, probably this summer and then again in six months. There are plenty of places you can get those tests for free or for cheap. The problem with some of these illnesses is that they have no symptoms at first, and when you have sex with someone, you’re also having sex with everyone else they’ve ever had sex with, and everyone _they’ve_ ever had sex with.” 

I shuddered at the thought of how long that line could go. “Okay, Mom,” I squeaked. This conversation was getting embarrassing, but mostly because my voice had gone from frog to mouse. 

Luckily Adam came out of the house before we could work through the rest of Old MacDonald’s farm. “There you are!” he exclaimed. “We better get going or we’re going to be late.” 

I looked at my watch and nearly fell off the stoop. “You’re right!” We’d promised Jeff we’d be ‘early’ to the barbeque…by showing up just as it was beginning. “Mom…” I said as I stood up and brushed myself off. 

“Forget it, buddy,” she replied, using the nickname she’d started calling my brothers and me when we were small and she’d jumbled up our names in her head. “Just go and have a good time. And do me a favor: when you go to get tested, take this one with you, hmm?” 

I shook my head as I walked away, but I was smiling. Seems Mom knew Adam better than he would have liked. “What was _that_ about?” Adam queried. 

I thought of various types of tests you could possibly take while not in school. “A TB test,” I told him drily. “She wants us to go get an exam at some point this summer.” 

If he realized I was lying, he didn’t let on. “Parents sure are weird,” Adam noted as we passed the property line between our house and Hay’s. 

I looked back at Mom, still sitting on the stoop, watching us walk away from her. “They sure are,” I agreed. 

*** 

There have only been two times I can ever remember walking up to the Braddock house with Adam standing by my side. Both times the windows were wide open, and the first time we could hear Haley and Jordan kissing and carrying on sweetly. This time, we could also hear them, but the words weren’t quite so happy. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” Jordan was shouting as we approached the front door, “And if I don’t know what the problem is, then I can’t help fix it!” 

Hay’s voice carried even more than his did. “My problem is you!” she cried in return. I could briefly see the two of them through the window before they disappeared from view, but it didn’t change the fact that we could hear everything. “Apparently, I don’t interest you anymore.” 

Jordan lowered his voice a smidgen, but it became clear that he was more frustrated than angry. “We’ve been over this,” he said, his voice moving closer to the windows. It appeared that Hay was pacing and he was following her. Or maybe it was the other way around. “I find you extremely sexy. That had absolutely nothing to do with it.” 

“You just don’t want to sleep with me,” she accused. 

Adam had been enjoying this all like a train wreck that he couldn’t pry his eyes from until that moment. “Hoo, boy,” he said under his breath to me. I hushed him with a single look; as much as I didn’t really want to be hearing this conversation, if I had to listen to it, I wanted to make sure I was following it. 

“Of course I do,” Jordan replied, and he stopped in his tracks just outside my view. “I would like nothing more. I’m just not going to take you up to a bedroom at a party when you’re halfway drunk. That’s not how I want to lose my virginity, especially when you may regret it—and me—in the morning.” 

Hay was silent for a moment. “Why are you always pressuring me, then?” 

“For sex?” Jordan bellowed. “When have I _ever_ pushed you?” 

I heard something slam to the ground; from the sound of it, she’d knocked over a stack of books. “What about this morning, that conversation with my mother I told you about?” 

Jordan let loose a growl. “All I did was suggest that the best way to get your mother to stop bugging you about birth control was to actually go ahead and let her get you the birth control. That didn’t mean that I was going to jump you five minutes later!”

If Haley had a response to that, I didn’t hear it. After a minute of silence, I reached out my rubbery hands and hit the doorbell. It seemed to have a strange noise and echo forever before the door opened. Hay, wearing yellow and white and an expression of sheer annoyance, threw the door open and stalked out of it, right past Adam and me as if she couldn’t see us. “Well, hello to you, too, Haley,” Adam called after her. 

She ignored him completely, her whole body rigid. The door had closed behind her, but after a moment, Jordan exited. He was clearly close to tears, which isn’t something you see too often on him. “Hey,” I said, reaching out a hand toward his shoulder. 

He shook off both my hand and the worry in his face. “Don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled in a way that indicated he knew we’d been eavesdropping. He, like his girlfriend, hurried to walk a few steps ahead of us, but unlike Hay, who’d already crossed the street some distance ahead, he slowed once we couldn’t see his face and wiped at the wetness in his eyes. 

“Hey,” Adam echoed me, but I knew he wasn’t trying to empathize. “Why does your shirt say ‘Amish?’” Jordan was wearing a University of Florida baseball jersey embellished with his number and the aforementioned appellation on it. 

“Never mind!” he barked, instantly irritated. I looked at Adam and we shrugged at each other and backed off of him. 

We made it to Jeff’s yard to see that the party was just beginning; we really weren’t late after all. Jordan stopped just in front of where the guests were gathered and waited for Adam and me to join him. At first I thought he just didn’t want to go up and say hello to Jeff’s parents by himself, despite the fact that he’s never really shown a hint of social anxiety. Instead, I followed his gaze and realized he was watching Haley. She wore a pair of white capri pants and a yellow halter top. I’d never seen her in a halter top before, but then again she seemed to be wearing, saying—and apparently doing—a lot of things I wasn’t used to. Her hair was pulled back from her head with a yellow and blue bandana. She went straight up to Jeff’s mom and introduced herself, transforming the scowl and hard posture instantly into something socially acceptable as she smiled and spoke to Mrs. Spier, who marveled at how much she’d grown up and asked her a few questions. “I wonder how much time she spends putting on an act like that,” Jordan muttered, more to himself than anyone else, though both Adam and I heard him. 

“Probably more than anyone would suspect,” I replied, which was exactly what Jordan didn’t want to hear. I patted him once on the shoulder blade and this time he let me. We went up to say hello to Jeff’s parents, who had formed an inadvertent receiving line. “Hi, Mrs. Spier,” I said in greeting. 

“Byron,” she replied, giving me a completely unexpected hug. “It is so good to see you. Please, call me Sharon.” She let the hug go. “And that goes for you two, also. I know these are your brothers,” she said, turning from them to me, “But remind me which is which.” 

I pointed out Adam, who shook her hand, and Jordan, whose attention was distracted. Hay had seen us coming and had gone as far away as possible, where she’d struck up a conversation with a complete stranger. Obviously, she wasn’t ready to let her anger go. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jordan said as he realized we were all looking at him. “It’s nice to see you again,” he added as he stuck out his hand for his own handshake. 

“I’ll let Jeff know you’re here. He’ll be so glad to see you—all four of you.” She followed Jordan’s attention again to where Haley was now standing alone by the refreshment table, the front she had put up slipping away. She looked ready to cry as she leaned against the table, looking out at the people who had already arrived…everyone but us. 

Before Mrs. Spier— _Sharon_ \--could go get Jeff, he appeared from the house carrying a tray of food. “Hey, guys!” he called to the three of us as he put the tray on the opposite end of the table from where Haley was standing. Jeff hadn’t seen either of my brothers since he’d come back to town. The timing just hadn’t been right, with prom taking up a large chunk of Jordan’s time and Adam getting reacquainted with all the ‘ladies’ of town, including his ex, Kelly. Several guy hugs and fist pumps were exchanged in greeting. “Weren’t you guys bringing dates?” Jeff asked after he kissed my cheek. 

Adam helped himself to one of the appetizers Jeff had just set out. “Didn’t you say this was a party for Mary Anne?” he mumbled through a mouth full of food. “I thought she might have some single friends for me to introduce myself to.” 

Jeff shook his head, amused, then turned to Jordan. “I know you’re not interested in Mary Anne’s friends,” he observed. 

Jordan’s shoulders slumped and he turned away from Hay—who was now sitting on a tree stump with a mostly-empty plate, rolling around a couple of cherry tomatoes and staring off into space. “She’s mad at me,” he said. 

“C’mon.” Jeff gestured to a group of chairs in a corner of the yard. “Let’s get out of the way before Richard decides to start introducing me to every one of his legal associates…again.” 

The four of us sat down, with Jeff and me sharing a lounge chair. “Are you going to have to help grill?” Adam asked, trying to get the focus away from Haley and her snit. 

“Are you kidding me?” Jeff replied. “Even if I wanted to help cook animal entrails, there’s no way Richard would let me near his grill. It’s brand new and his favorite toy.” 

As if on cue, Jeff’s stepdad appeared from the house wearing an apron, oven mitts and a chef’s hat. “The hat makes the outfit,” Adam snarked. 

We watched him fumble around with the meat for a while. Even Jordan stopped his vigil, constantly checking on Hay (who purposely turned her back on us), to observe. “This is awesome,” he said as Richard dropped the tongs for the third time in a row. “I can’t look away.” 

Adam leaned forward. “That’s exactly what I said about watching you and Haley fight earlier,” he commented. 

Jeff made a face, looking part amused and part exasperated. Even though he found Adam’s comment funny, he was afraid it might start an argument. “Now, now,” he said to Adam. “Behave yourself.” Adam gave him a devilish grin, making Jordan roll his eyes. 

“Jeff,” Sharon called from across the yard. “Granny and Pop-pop are here. Come and say hi.” 

Jeff eased out of our shared chair, brushing his hand through my hair as he got up. I saw him hugging his grandmother, who walked with a walker and was fragile looking, and shaking hands with his grandfather. Jordan and Adam were still watching the barbeque (and debating verbally whether the food would be any good) and I saw Hay talking to Jeff’s stepsister. I heard the words ‘social scientist’ and knew she was talking about college. Not having a conversation I wanted to get involved in, I walked over to the refreshment table, gathering up a few deviled eggs on my plate. I was considering some of the veggies and dip when I heard a voice from a few feet away. “Hey, Byron,” Jeff called. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

I carefully eased my plate onto the edge of the table and headed over to where he was still standing with his grandparents. “Granny, Pop-pop, this is Byron,” Jeff proclaimed, introducing me with a flourish. He seemed more than a little nervous at what going on and I suddenly realized that he was about to come out to them. 

I held out my hand and firmly shook Pop-pop’s. “So lovely to meet you,” I said. 

We heard a shrieking on the other side of the yard and realized that several of Mary Anne’s friends had arrived, my old childhood babysitters. I saw Claudia Kishi kiss another one of the sitters on the cheek. “What’s going on over there?” Pop-pop (I hadn’t been introduced to him any other way and thus couldn’t think of him as anything but) asked, instantly forgetting we were in the middle of greeting each other. “Are some of Richard’s daughter’s friends homosexuals?” 

Granny spoke out. “They’re just greeting each other, dear. I’m sure Mary Anne’s friends are all good, decent girls.” 

I saw Jeff shrink a little bit back from both of them, hearing the twinge of homophobia in what they’d just said. “Mary Anne,” Pop-pop repeated. “Why the hell can’t I remember that girl’s name?” 

Granny reached over her walker and patted my arm. “It was nice meeting you, dear. We’re going to go sit over here. Jeff, do me a favor and bring your grandmother a tray of snacks in a few minutes? There’s something Pop-pop and I want to discuss with you.” 

Jeff obediently followed directions, picking up a plate to fill with food. I grabbed my own plate and followed him, picking through the food. I tried to avoid getting too many meat products. It was hard to always avoid eating foods that Jeff didn’t eat, but I tried to do just that on his home turf, same as he tried to avoid anything too weird that might make others raise an eyebrow when out with my friends. “I wonder what they want to discuss with you,” I said, glancing over at a couple of comfortable chairs Sharon had set out for her parents. 

“I’ve got no clue,” Jeff replied, popping a piece of celery in his mouth. His grandparents’ attention was elsewhere, so he brushed up against my side, his mouth near my ear. “Make me a plate too, okay? I’ll be back with you and your brothers in a moment.” He ran his lips along my cheek, giving me chills. I responded only with fingers dug into his arm, but Jeff smiled and took the plate over to Granny. 

I loaded my plate up with food for both me and Jeff, knowing that I’d never be able to carry two plates at once (and that if I left my plate near my brothers while I got Jeff food, mine would be empty when I got back.) “What’s going on?” Adam asked as I approached the half-empty cluster of chairs. 

“Wish I knew,” I replied. Jordan reached over and swiped a deviled egg off my plate. “Jeff was about to tell his grandparents about us, but I don’t think that will be happening today.” 

“Uh-oh,” Adam responded as he took a cracker and some cheese off for himself. “Chickened out, huh?” 

“For good reason,” I said, pulling my plate closer and batting away my brothers’ hands. I settled into the chair Jeff and I had been sharing earlier, shifting it so I could watch what was going on around me. 

I spotted Haley in an enthusiastic-appearing conversation with Mal’s best friend Jessi, the two of them sitting down in the corner. Jessi had a pair of crutches and a cast on one leg, giving the two of them a built-in conversation. Seeing that Hay looked marginally happier, I moved back to Jeff. He’d placed the plate on the table in front of Pop-Pop and was now bent over, listening closely to what Pop-pop was saying. Granny reached into her purse and pulled out two items, presenting one to Jeff right away. Jeff’s back was to me but I could tell by the instant change in his posture that he was thrilled, and after a moment I saw why: it was a car key. Granny pulled the other item—some kind of written document—out of her lap and she and Jeff both signed it. Jeff hugged his grandparents in turn and then came running back over here. “You’ll never guess what Granny and Pop-pop just gave me,” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushed. 

In his haste to show off, Jeff had forgotten that the car key was still dangling off his finger. “Might it be a car?” Jordan asked facetiously. 

“No,” Adam quipped. “Not a car. Just a car key.” 

“Funny,” Jeff replied drily. “Can you believe this? They signed the title over to me just now.” He jingled the key in a way that made it hard to tell what kind of car key it was. “I thought they’d forgotten. I mean, they bought Dawn a car when she turned sixteen…although she never drove it once and eventually Richard and Mom just sold it and put the money in a college fund for her…and they got Mary Anne one when she turned seventeen and got _her_ license.” 

I couldn’t seem to catch his enthusiasm. “You already have a car,” I pointed out. “What are you going to do with it? Drive it around all summer and then leave it here for those odd times when you come back to visit?” 

“No, By, you don’t get it.” Jeff sat down by my side, still excited enough that he made the seat jiggle. “We’re going to drive it this summer. Don’t you see? We’ll pack it full of your stuff and take a road trip across America.” 

I looked at the key still hanging on his finger. “That’s how we’ll get to Berkeley,” I finished, putting two and two together. 

“Exactly! All we need is your school things, a tent and a sleeping bag. With a little planning, we’ll be all set to go.” He planted a big wet kiss on my cheek. 

“One sleeping bag?” Adam asked, raising one eyebrow. “Sounds like my idea of a good road trip. And from what I hear, you two will be getting a little practice in camping out, anyway.” 

“What is he talking about?” Jordan queried, looking directly at me. Adam’s prone to throwing out lines like that that are actually code for something else, so I understood Jordan’s question. 

“Oh, man, Jordan,” Adam continued on as if he’d never been interrupted. “You should have heard Byron earlier today. He totally laid the smack down on Mom.” 

It was Jeff’s turn to sound confused. “By?” he asked. 

I shrugged. “I just did what I said I was going to do: I told her the truth.” 

Jeff raised his eyebrows. “Really?” I shrugged again and Jeff smiled. “I need to hear all about this later.” 

I eased my arm around him and he brushed his lips against my forehead, then leaned against my side. I felt eyes on us, watching our every movement, but I was used to that. Part of it was my urge to keep private things private and paranoia about public displays of affection; the other part was the fact that people were indeed more likely to stare at me and Jeff than at a more traditional couple. 

The four of us started discussing the mechanics of the cross country trip. “It’s simple, really,” I said. “We decide on a route, figure out how many miles it is, decide how many miles we want to cover a day, then find campgrounds that are approximately that many miles apart down the road.” 

“Oh yeah,” Adam responded sarcastically after a moment. “Real simple.” 

*** 

We’d moved on to listening to Jordan recount locker room tales by the time I got up to refill my plate of snacks (which had become a shared plate of snacks, no matter how much I’d vowed it wouldn’t.) “Why aren’t the burgers ready yet?” Adam asked, gripping his stomach with his hands in a dramatic fashion. 

“I’ll ask that question, and tell them to put a rush on it,” I deadpanned, getting out of the chair slowly and taking a look around. More people had arrived, making finding Hay harder, but I spotted her under a tree, still with a couple of the former-babysitters. This time, though, they appeared to be having a conversation around her, including her the best they could despite the fact that she didn’t appear to be giving much input. 

I headed over to take a look at the grill, just curious as to how much longer it would be until the food was ready, and was surprised to see Mary Anne’s husband manning it. “Hey, Byron, right?” Pete asked, waving his spatula for emphasis. “Nothing’s ready just yet, but if you want to claim a patty, I’ll let you. These three over here are already spoken for.” 

I shook my head. “I’m sure they’re all equally good,” I insisted. He grinned and flipped one over, squishing it down inexpertly with the spatula. I remembered what Jeff said about Richard not letting other people play with his new baby and looked around. Neither Jeff’s parents nor his grandparents were anywhere to be seen. “Pete, do you know where Sharon and Richard went?” It felt extremely weird to refer to both of them by their first names. 

He shrugged. “Inside, I think. All I know is that Richard asked me to man the grill and I about had a heart attack. I don’t know how well you know the man, but the only way I could be more shocked is if he let me drive his car.” 

I absentmindedly gathered a pile of snacks on the plate, a thought growing in the back of my head. Determined to enjoy the party, I shook it off and headed back to my friends just in time to hear the end of one of Jordan’s stories. “So for Aaron’s birthday this year, one of the upperclassmen got this giant dildo and decorated it with rhinestones. He paid off the RA to let him into Aaron’s room and put it on his pillow. He’d had the room to himself since Jason was injured, so we thought it was safe. But it turns out that he’d gotten a new roommate just the day before. Aaron was hopping mad because his roomie thought that he was some giant pervert.” 

Jeff and Adam about fell over laughing, but I was more serious about it. “How is Jason?” I asked. 

Jordan sobered up a little bit. “Thanks for asking. He’s doing a lot better. They moved him to a rehab facility and although he’s apparently going to have to learn to walk and talk again, he seems to not have lost any cognitive skill. His mom put him on the phone with me and he thought that Aaron story was absolutely hilarious.” 

I put the plate down in Jeff’s lap and watched everyone else reach for it. Even though I just sat down, I stood back up. “Gotta make a pit stop. Do me a favor and make sure to leave me a couple of those deviled eggs, okay? They were the last ones.” 

I moseyed inside the house, intent upon the bathroom. So intent, in fact, that I walked right into the swarm of bees before I realized it was even there. Granny and Pop-pop were seated at the dining table, while Sharon and Richard stood on the other side. Richard’s arms were crossed on his chest, while Sharon looked like she was wringing her hands. “Byron,” she said in surprise. She hurried over and grabbed my arm, her expression no less harried and worried. “Looking for the bathroom?” she asked, guiding me toward the stairs. “Let me show you.” 

I waited until we were upstairs before I spoke, that sense of dread from earlier growing into a knot in my stomach. “I know where the bathroom is,” I said quietly, even though we both already knew that fact. 

“I know,” she acknowledged. “When you head back outside, will you send Jeff in here, please?” 

“No problem,” I agreed. 

“And do me a favor, Byron? Just…” She was choosing her words extremely carefully. “My parents are very old. And old-fashioned. Keep that in mind with anything you may overhear, okay?” 

I nodded spastically and she headed back downstairs. I strained to listen to the conversation while I was doing my business, but I could only hear selected words. I rushed out of the house, carefully not making eye contact with anyone. When I reached the little group of chairs in the corner, Jeff was telling a story. “So Kinsey’s on the top of the jungle gym and she shouts, ‘I’m a bird; I’m gonna fly!’ Someone heard her and called the cops. We had a really fun time explaining that it was a school assignment on the horrors of drugs.” Jeff grinned as he saw me approaching, but the smile faded as I got closer. “What’s the matter, By?” 

“Your mom wants to see you,” I answered vaguely. 

Jeff got up, our empty snack plate rolling onto the floor as he did so. “Oooo-kay,” he said, knowing that wasn’t the whole story. 

The two of us walked the distance back to the house together. “Your mom’s inside, with Richard and Granny and Pop-pop.” 

Jeff froze in his tracks. “How bad did it sound?” he asked, fidgeting nervously. 

I shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything, but the tension in the air…” He nodded his understanding and went inside, closing the door firmly behind him. There were a couple of Adirondack chairs sitting near—but out of sight of—an open window and I took a seat. I had moved from inadvertent eavesdropping today to full-fledging snooping. 

I couldn’t hear everything, but what I did hear was a little surprising. They weren’t arguing about Jeff’s sexuality—it became abundantly clear early on that Pop-pop did not approve, though—but about the car that his grandparents had gifted him. “It’s a legally binding document,” Richard said about the title that had been signed over to Jeff. “That car is now Jeff’s, like it or not. If we were to take you to court, the judge would most definitely rule in our favor.” 

There was a pause as Pop-pop said something that didn’t carry. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Richard said, actually sounding angry rather than sorry. “In this house, not only do we support Jeff one-hundred percent, we give gifts without stipulations. You give people gifts because you love them, not because you expect things out of them.” 

A short time later, Pop-pop stormed out of the house. I did my best to blend into the woodwork, and in his upset state, it was enough to work. Granny came out a short time later, stumbling as she tried to maneuver her walker out the door. Without thinking, I rushed over to help her, holding the door and righting her walker. “Thank you, dear,” she said, patting my hand. “You seem like a nice young man, and Jeff seemed very eager for me to meet you earlier. Give my husband some time, and I bet he’ll come around.” With that, she followed Pop-pop out to the car. 

Jeff stood in the doorway by the time she reached the car. He looked stressed out and overloaded. “What was that about?” he asked me. I shook my head, figuring I’d tell him later when he was more likely to actually listen to me. 

Sharon saw the two of us in the doorway. “Why don’t both of you come in for just a minute longer?” she said. I followed Jeff through the door and sat down beside him on the couch. I tapped nervously at my thigh, not sure what was going to happen. Jeff saw the taps and grabbed my hand, squeezing it thoroughly. Sharon and Richard sat down on chairs opposite us, and she spoke first. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that,” she said. 

I shrugged despite the fact that I still had the knot in my stomach. “You can’t control your relatives,” I pointed out. 

Richard nodded. “We’re also sorry, Jeff, about your car. Even though I pointed out to your grandfather that we _could_ sue him, we’re obviously not about to actually do that.” 

Jeff nodded, his head looking heavy. “I know,” he acknowledged. “I’m not really upset about the car. Well, maybe just a little bit. But it’s knowing that Pop-pop has basically decided that I’m not worth treating as equal to Dawn and Mary Anne that’s really bothering me.” 

“Give him time,” Sharon soothed. “He may come around.” 

Jeff was a lot calmer than I had expected him to be. I squeezed his hand back. “Your grandmother said the same thing a minute ago,” I added. 

“See?” Richard said. “Anyway, I have a thought. You probably do need a car this summer, as your mother and I are just not up to staying up until midnight every night to pick you up at work. We’d discussed getting a new car, so once we do…you can have the Focus.” 

Jeff perked up a little, but then sagged. “The main appeal of the car from Granny and Pop-pop,” he explained, “was that we were going to take a cross-country trip with it at the end of the summer. Byron’s moving to San Francisco, and we needed a way to get his things there.” 

Richard and Sharon looked at each other for a moment. “Well,” he finally said. “Here’s the deal. If Granny and Pop-pop don’t give you the other car, you may take the Focus on your trip. Since you won’t need two cars when you get to back to California, you may either keep it and sell the one your dad gave you—assuming he agrees to that—or you may sell the Focus. Provided that you put the money you get from it in your college account.” 

Jeff smirked. “I thought we didn’t give gifts with stipulations in this house?” he asked. Richard opened his mouth, ready to protest, before he realized Jeff was kidding and relaxed his posture. “Thank you, both of you,” Jeff continued, then turned to me. “All three of you.” He got up and hugged both his mother and Richard, then turned back to me, grabbing my hand. 

“It’s no problem at all, Jeff,” Richard said. “You may not be able to have everything you want in life, but as long as your mother and I are living, you’ll always have us.” 

Jeff was still looking at me when Richard said that, and in his eyes I saw the words, _and you_. 

“Did you have any problems with your relatives when you told them you were gay?” Sharon asked me, distracting Jeff’s attention away from me. 

She was probably hoping I could give some words of encouragement. “No…” I started slowly, “unless you count the fact that about half of my relatives knew before I ever told them. When my mom told one of my uncles, he thought it was old news and that I’d already come out a couple years back.” I shrugged. “I’ve figured out that, for relatives I only see once in a while, it’s better being ‘the gay one’ than ‘which one is he again?’” It had taken me a long time to come to that conclusion, and it really didn’t bother me anymore. 

Richard clapped Jeff on the back. “Let’s get back to our guests. Jeff, why don’t you go round up Mary Anne and the two of you can help your mother get all the dinner accoutrements out on the table: potato salad, buns, you know what I mean. And Byron, you like burgers, don’t you? Why don’t you help me and Pete with the grill?” 

Jeff and I spent the next half hour helping his family keep the barbeque running smoothly. Even though it was manual labor I hadn’t volunteered for, I didn’t mind. It was the first time in a year that I’d seen Jeff so happy when interacting with his family. He’d joked with Richard, teased Mary Anne in best little-brother fashion, swapped stories with Pete and even at one point told his mom he loved her. And I got to be party to all of it. 

After a while we finally sat down with loaded plates. Adam and Jordan were still in the corner, despite the fact that they’d finished their food already. As people were done eating, they began filtering away. Mary Anne and Pete were heading to a bar with their friends around the time it got dark. (Jeff and I had gotten the ‘We’d invite you along, but, y’know. It’s a bar.’) They headed inside to help with the cleanup and Haley, who was still lamely trailing behind them, followed. “She must be really upset if she’s this desperate to avoid you guys,” Jeff noted, causing Jordan to clench his fists. He wasn’t mad at Jeff…just at the truth in his statement. 

“Oh, forget her,” Adam grumbled. 

“Are you suggesting I break up with her over this?” Jordan growled menacingly. 

Adam rolled his eyes at what he saw as Jordan’s fake ire. “Of course not. What I’m suggesting is more like Mom used to say when Claire was little and threw tantrums: Ignore her. Remember that? We stopped giving Claire an audience for her show and she quit performing it. Quit giving Haley that sad puppy dog look and she’ll stop throwing _her_ tantrum.” 

Jordan stood up abruptly and gathered up a pile of plates, forks and napkins that he marched over to trash and tossed in furiously. “Oh, look,” Adam said, quietly enough that Jeff and I could hear him but Jordan couldn’t. “Now he’s throwing a tantrum.” 

“Oh, hush,” I told him. “Can’t you be a little nicer to him? He’s really hurting over this.” 

“Don’t you know me at all?” he quipped in return. “And he’s being a girl about it, actually.” 

Jeff stood up and threw away a little bit of trash he’d been hoarding. He spoke in a low voice to Jordan, who nodded. “Hey you two,” he called, “Come up to my room with us?” 

Jeff’s mom saw us tramping our way into the house and didn’t say a word, even though I wasn’t normally allowed in Jeff’s room. We got inside and Jeff stopped in the doorway while the rest of us settled in, Jordan and Adam on the bed and me on his chair. “I’m going to go snag Hay,” he said. 

Jordan made a face. “She’s been avoiding us all day. What makes you think she wants to come join us?” 

“She’s been waiting for someone to ask her,” Jeff insisted. “Otherwise, she would have gone home a long time ago.” 

Jeff bounded out the door and Jordan turned to me, a look of surprise replacing the brooding expression he’d had. “Why didn’t _you_ think of that?” he asked. 

I shrugged. It actually hadn’t ever occurred to me, but at that moment, something else did: Jeff was the glue that held our little group together. Since he’d come back to Stoneybrook, my brothers and I had grown closer. I’d had the courage to come out, which had given Jordan the chance to tell Hay how he felt. And she’d found the strength to let him in the shell she’d built around herself. 

What would have happened if Jeff hadn’t run into Adam and Jordan last year? Or if they hadn’t invited him to come on our spring break adventure, or he’d said no? Fate is funny. Maybe I’d have still come out to Hay during that trip, leading to the person I am now. Or maybe I’d still be that quiet, unhappy guy, watching life instead of living it. 

I stopped speculating on things I could never know when Hay peeked her head around the corner of Jeff’s room a moment later. She saw the assembled group and scowled. “I thought you said it was just going to be the two of us,” she griped as Jeff shoved her in through the door. 

“I lied,” he admitted. “There are some people in this room who would like the pleasure of your company, and I don’t just mean myself.” 

“Maybe I don’t want their company,” she pronounced with a grimace, crossing her arms across her chest. Jeff eased himself between her and the door to prevent her from leaving, reading her mind as easily as I do. 

“Oh, shut up and listen for a moment,” Adam commanded, surprising us all. We turned to face him where he was sitting in the corner, propped up on Jeff’s bed pillows, hands on his hips. “You’ve put Jordan through hell and high water over the past year. You’ve pushed him away and made him prove to you repeatedly that he cares. You even dumped him just to make a point. And he still, for whatever reason, keeps coming back to you.

“And then there’s Byron, who’s been beside you for four years putting up with your drama. He could have left you behind any time and he never did. Even Jeff is concerned about you, enough to drag your sorry ass up here.” Adam leaned forward toward Hay, who’d drawn herself in, turning her body so she was looking at him over her shoulder a bit. That told me two things: he’d hit very close to home for her, and there was a fair shot that Jeff really would need to tackle her to keep her from running out the door. “So stop behaving like a toddler and treating your friends like shit.” 

Hay moved to open her mouth, but her shoulders were slumped by now and I had the feeling she was fighting back tears. Adam softened a little bit. “We’re all here to stand behind you, if you’ll stop pushing us away,” he added more calmly and gently. 

“Even you, Adam?” Jeff asked, half-sarcastically. 

“Even me,” he acknowledged, still looking straight at Haley. “We may not have been the best of friends…I may have hated your guts here and there…but I’ve accepted the fact that, at least for the foreseeable future, you’re here to stay.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” I joked, just to relax the tension a little bit. Adam had been deadly serious in his statement, but if you looked at it objectively, it wasn’t really even that nice of a compliment or anything. “Maybe you two should hug or something.” 

Everyone ignored the second half of my comment. “You really mean that, Adam?” Haley asked, wiping at her eyes just a little. Obviously, she was either not quite crying or she’d followed through on her waterproof mascara. “Would you really hunt down my rapist for me if I asked you?” 

I was surprised to hear her mention her rape so casually and more than a little disturbed that I couldn’t read her emotions. I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic, or serious, or joking or what. Adam appeared to ponder that for a moment, finally removing his hands from his hips and putting them in his lap casually. “Sure,” he said slowly. “No one deserves what happened to you…not even you. If the four of us took him on, we could probably cause homicide-style damage.” 

He faded out and Haley actually laughed, causing all of us to relax a bit—even if the laugh was a little hysterical and crazed. Jeff left the doorway and sat on the arm of his chair, his hand casually on my shoulder and his butt dangerously close to my side. Hay followed the movement and looked at the two of us as Jeff nuzzled my head and I gave her what I thought was an encouraging look. She then shifted so she was looking at Adam, still watching her closely, and then Jordan. 

He was sitting at the other end of the bed and hadn’t spoken since Haley had entered the room. To me it looked like he was taking Adam’s advice and refusing to give Hay an audience for her tantrum. Or possibly, he was more upset with her than he’d seemed. In any case he was expressionless and blank and unmoving, and that appeared to make Hay extremely apprehensive. “Jordan?” she asked quietly. 

He looked down at his knees, breaking eye contact with her for just a moment before he patted the comforter next to his side. Hay didn’t hesitate; she was with him in moments and he wrapped his arm around her neck, their foreheads pushed together. His other hand was on her cheek for just a moment before he kissed her. Adam gave them a moment and then looked at his watch dramatically. “All right, all right,” he grumbled. “That’s enough of that.” He clapped his hands together as the two of them separated a bit, Hay snuggling up into Jordan’s side like she belonged there. “I may regret that I ever tried to help you if the two of you are going to repay me with copious PDA.” 

Jordan shifted his hand around Hay’s shoulder and flicked Adam off in the process. Adam was undaunted. “While I’m offering sound advice, here’s another piece for you,” he continued. “Make your mother happy. Get the damn birth control.” 

Haley looked away from Jordan to shoot Adam a furious glance, trying to tell him he’d crossed the line. “He’s right,” I interjected. “No one’s saying you have to actually _use_ it, if it makes you that hesitant,” I added as she swiveled her annoyed eyes to me. “But he _is_ right. I learned today that parents really have a hard time accepting that we aren’t little kids any more. And when we start showing them that we’re mature and responsible, it helps them a lot. You accepting that sex is a possibility will help your mother feel like you’re safer—especially since you’re going off to college and she won’t be able to hands-on mother you on a daily basis.” 

Hay nodded, finally seeing the logic of what Jordan had apparently been trying to tell her earlier in the day. “I guess,” she said quietly. She’s never just been able to admit she’s wrong—she’s always got to hedge it, or just flat-out lie, even though everyone knows the truth. 

“And if you do decide to join the human race and stop being so stand-offish about sex, all you gotta do is just start the prescription,” Adam finished, as if he were some kind of warped sex-ed instructor. Haley rolled her eyes at his playful insults, but she seemed to absorbing everything like a sponge, more receptive to his words than she’d been to mine or Jordan’s recently. Amazing how a little distance on a relationship means a whole different perspective. 

“Gee, Adam,” Jeff called, his hand slowly working the gap between my shoulder blades. “You’re so good at solving everyone else’s problems, maybe you should run for president. You’d have the problems in the Middle East solved in a week.” 

For the first time since he’d spoken to Haley, Adam no longer looked serious (a condition that didn’t really suit his happy-go-lucky persona.) “Adam Pike for president of the whole world,” he cracked. “President of the universe.” 

Jordan snorted his apparent lack of agreement, but Haley smiled lightly. “I’d vote for you.” 

“It’s settled then,” Jeff asserted. He shifted in the chair, his hand leaving a warm spot on my neck when he moved it away. He turned on the stereo, letting soft music waft out of his CD player. 

It was obviously a song Hay knew quite well, because she perked up. “I love this song!” she enthused. “But I’ve never heard this version of it before. Who is this?” 

“Queen,” Jeff replied, lazily reaching behind him and turning the volume up. I think he was just happy to hear her enthusiastic again. 

The song played on, and Hay started singing along. “The show must go on,” she began quietly. “The show must go on. Inside my heart is breaking. My makeup may be flaking. But my smile still stays on.” 

Realizing we were all listening, she upped the volume, sitting up straighter in an effort to really belt it out. 

_Whatever happens, I’ll leave it all to chance_  
_Another heartache, another failed romance_  
_On and on, does anyone know what we are living for?_  
_I guess I’m learning, I must be warmer now_  
_I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now_  
_Outside the dawn is breaking_  
_But inside in the dark I’m aching to be free_

The five of us spent the rest of the night making plans for the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to anyone who has made it this far in the series. My combined Byron/Jeff and friends works now number more than 470,000 words and yet some of you have held on all this way! Thanks for all the feedback; I’ll be going through and making some minor spelling/grammar changes (I don’t have a beta reader, so I have to beta my own work) over the next few weeks and then hopefully get started on Twenty-One.


End file.
